


I Know if I Were You I'd Hate Me

by Spades13



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Best Friends, Bullying, Depressed Michael Mell, Heavy Angst, I'm depressed so Michael is too, Michael Mell is not okay, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicide, Voices in Michael's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 61,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spades13/pseuds/Spades13
Summary: “Michael... I told you to tell me if it got bad again.”“I know.”“So why didn’t you?”“I didn’t want to bother you.”ORMichael is suffering, and he would prefer to do so in silence, but his friends are just that: friends. Even with a group of caring supporters by his side, things can still get to be too much.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ugh.” Jeremy declared as he slumped into Michael’s car and tossed his bag in the backseat. 

“Good morning to you too.” Michael chuckled and reversed out of Jeremy’s driveway, beginning their journey to Middleborough. “What’s up man?” 

“Stupid shit.” Jeremy sighed, turning to look out the window. 

“Such as?” Michael pressed. He wouldn’t stand for his best friend to be in a bad mood and suffer in silence. Jeremy was too good for that. 

“Well firstly, it’s Monday.” Jeremy was relatively quick to give into Michael’s ‘therapy’ as he always had been. Talking to Michael made things better. He always had advice to give and support to shove under Jeremy to keep him from falling flat on his face. 

“Agreed.” Michael shrugged, he was already missing his weekend of laying in bed and listening to music. “Proceed.” 

“I’ve got three tests today that I’ll definitely fail because I was going to cram last night but I was up until two running lines with Christine for her show and convincing her she won’t die next week when it starts its run.” 

“So no sleep?” 

“A bit of sleep. Not enough.” 

“What tests? Other than computer science.” One of their shared classes. 

“World history and calculous.” 

“Well you’ll do great in world history.” Michael assured. “That stuff’s always been your strong suit. You have McPhee for calculous right?” He glanced over just in time to catch Jeremy’s nod. “Well I had her last semester. If you fail-which you won’t-she’ll let you retake it. She’s cool like that. And you can just cheat off me in computer science if you need. You know Sullivan doesn’t pay attention to anything that goes on in that room.” 

“Thanks Michael.” Jeremy smiled, broad and genuine. Michael always knew how to make him feel better. “Wait, where are you going?” Michael had missed the turn for Middleborough, something he never did. 

“We’re getting you an extra-large coffee my friend.” Michael smirked. “Not enough sleep on a Monday that also happens to have three tests taking place is absolutely grounds for a caffeine overdose.” 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“Jeremy!” Christine bounced up from her seat as soon as she caught sight of her other half and snaked her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much for last night, I just had to run through it one more time and it’s just not the same looking at myself in the mirror and doing both parts because that’s not what I do on the stage and I can’t be all ‘what country friend is this?’ and ‘tis Illyria lady’ at the same time and thank you thank you thank you!” 

“Anytime sweetheart.” Jeremy placed a kiss on the top of her head as they sat down at the partially occupied cafeteria table. Since they’d gotten friends, Michael and Jeremy had begun showing up for school way too early so they could socialize before class. 

“How’s it going Michael?” Rich held his hand out and Michael performed their slap-greeting via muscle memory. It was like a high five but… weird… and sideways. 

“Same old same old, how ‘bout you?” he replied as he turned a chair around a straddled it, crossing his arms over the plastic backrest. 

“Kinda shitty if I’m honest.” Rich sighed, leaning back in his chair and eying Jeremy and Christine with a hint of envy on his face as they chatted and giggled together, ignoring the rest of the world. 

“What’s wrong, man?” Michael’s head tipped slightly, kind of like a puppy when it’s listening intently, waiting to see if it’s going to get a treat for only partially performing a sit. 

“Nothing major.” Rich shook his head. “Just that my laptop is bugging out on me, so I’ll have to shell out five hundred bucks to get a new one.” 

“I could try to fix it if you want.” Michael shrugged. “I’ve kept my mom’s dinosaur running for the last eight years. It should have died forever ago.” 

“Really? You’d do that?” 

“I’ll at least take a look.” Michael smiled at Rich’s lit up face. “No promises, But I am half decent at that sort of thing. You free after school for me to come by?” 

“Absolutely! Thanks man!” 

“No problem.” 

“Guuuuyyyysssss!” Brooke’s voice startled everyone out of their conversation as she, Chloe, and Jenna claimed seats at the table. “You’ll never believe what happened.” 

“What’s wrong?” Jake caught the tail end of Brooke’s complaint as he plopped down in that last open seat. 

“Jenna told her that Pink Berry is closing down for a few weeks while they renovate.” Chloe shot Jenna a look and rolled her eyes. Everyone knew Brooke was a creature of habit and loved Friday night fro-yo with the gang. It was her favourite part of the week and no one was ever allowed to miss it. Ever. 

“She had to find out sometime before Friday.” Jenna countered, placing a hand on Brooke’s shoulder.

“I know I’m being ridiculous, just love our Friday tradition.” Brooke pouted.

“Well who says it has to stop?” Michael cut in. “How about we go to a different frozen yogurt place every Friday and complain about how it’s not as good as Pink Berry? That could be our stand-in tradition until they reopen and we can bask in perfection once again.” 

“You’re a genius!” Brooke’s sullen expression was immediately replaced with one of excitement. “I’ll get a list of frozen yogurt places together!” 

“Well your mood switches fast.” Rich laughed out loud at Brooke’s grin. 

“Always has.” Chloe shook her head with a smirk. 

“So.” Jake began once the laughter had died down. “Who else is already sick of this semester?” 

Michael let himself fall into the background, half paying attention to what was being said about classes and longing for summer and upcoming parties that he would not be attending. He just sat there sipping his coffee, laughing along when it was necessary, making it look like he was more engaged in the conversation than he was. It was a well-developed skill of his. He longed to just slip his headphones on, but that would probably be considered rude, so he just listened. 

“Well, we should all get to class.” A common sentence to come out of Christine’s mouth at every morning at eight thirty three, two minutes before first bell. The usual chorus of mumbled agreement followed, and Michael rose with the rest of his peers to trudge up to the English hallway. 

“See you guys later!” He waved as he broke away from the pack, who all had some sort of math or science first period. A cacophony of goodbye’s and a smattering of waves followed him as he ducked into the stairwell and immediately pressed his headphones over his ears. Bob Marley serenaded him as he climbed the stairs and wove through the crowded hallways towards his classroom. The headphones stayed on until Mr. Miller began his morning spiel, then went right back on as soon as the students were instructed to work on their essays. 

The voices of Billy Joel, Alanis Morrissette, Bon Jovi, and of course Bob Marley rotated through his head as he grabbed websites and quotes for his paper. It was a riveting five paragrapher about animal testing that made Michael a bit nauseous when he got to the parts about the torture that lab rats are subjected to. “I’m glad computer science doesn’t require me to poison animals.” He thought as he quickly clicked out of a page that was quite graphic. 

By the time Michael had found ten reliable sources, three quotes each for and against animal testing, and had some jot notes down for how he wanted to structure the paper, there were just fifteen minutes left of class. “no point in starting anything new.” He just put his head down, knowing nobody would notice. He was only visible to his seven friends. He preferred it that way. He had-in fact-preferred it more when he was only visible to one friend, but seven was better than however many were in his English class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this is my first story for BMC and the first story I'm posting here. God I hope it doesn't suck... It's a long one (long meaning I've already written twenty one chronological chapters and about seven sporadic ones... but my chapters are pretty short sssoooo) so if you want to stick around I hope I'll actually finish it! Thanks to everyone who decided to read, I appreciate it! Also, leave me a comment if you want, I love to hear feedback :) I hope I'l see you for the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Michael jumped about ten feet in the air when a meaty hand connected with his shoulder. Once the initial shock wore off, he looked up to see Mr. Miller a couple of feet away. His mouth was moving, but Michael couldn’t hear him. Or maybe he could. But Mr. Miller was sounding a lot more like KISS than usual. Oh. Headphones. He took them off. 

“I’m sorry?” He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath as he stared at the short, pudgy man. 

“I was just telling you the bell rang.” Mr. Miller explained, gesturing to the impressively empty classroom. 

“Oh, sorry.” Michael quickly began gathering his things and shoving them in his bag. “I must have dozed off.” 

“Are you okay, Michael?” 

The question caught him off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just making sure.” Miller sighed, his gaze seeming to linger on Michael’s desk just a little too long. Why was he staring at Michael’s desk…? 

“Well I’m gonna be late…” Michael was suddenly incredibly uncomfortable despite the vast emptiness of the classroom. 

“Yes, yes. Run along.” 

“See you tomorrow, sir.” And Michael all but ran from the room, pressing his headphones tighter against his ears. 

“What’s wrong?” Jeremy demanded as soon as Michael sat down next to him in the computer lab, breathing hard and fidgeting with the cord of his headphones. 

“Nothing.” Michael threw on a wide smile, trying to get his lungs back under control. Nothing had happened. Why was he upset? “I fell asleep in Miller’s class and he woke me up after the bell. Thought I was gonna be late for the test so I ran here.” He forced a chuckle and Jeremy eyed him suspiciously. 

He knew when his best friend was hiding something. Usually. Well… sometimes. Michael was one hell of an actor. But this time, he was sure that something was eating at Michael. Maybe he would tell him later. Probably not. Unless Jeremy forced it out of him. “You sure that’s all?” 

“Yeah, Jer, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Okay.” Jeremy sighed. He would have to wait it out. 

“So how did calculous go?” Michael quickly changed the subject. Redirecting attention was one of his favourite things. 

“Easier than I expected, but I won’t know for sure until Wednesday.” 

“Well easy is a good sign, right?” 

“I guess.” Jeremy huffed. “Unless I somehow managed to use all the wrong formulas or something.”

“I doubt it.” Michael patted his friend on the shoulder just as Professor Sullivan sauntered in, beating the bell by milliseconds. 

“Good morning class, I hope everyone had a productive weekend.” Sullivan dropped his briefcase unceremoniously on his desk and fell heavily into his chair. He sure made a lot of racket for such a small old man. “As you know we have a test today, it will be online, blah blah blah, you guys know the drill by now. Just do it and then work on whatever assignments you’ve procrastinated on.” 

Michael logged into the school’s eLearn page and clicked around until he found the test. He glanced over at Jeremy’s screen to be sure he also had it queued up before opening the page. Sullivan was already zoned out, flipping through some magazine, only to look up if a student needed help badly enough that they would be willing to forcibly extract the paper from between his wrinkled hands. 

The test was a breeze for Michael. Computer science, engineering, programming, anything in the realm of technology came easily to him. He would have been done the test in ten minutes flat, but he rather worked at a pace that made it possible for Jeremy to collect answers if he needed them. Even at his slow pace, Michael completed the test with half an hour left on the clock. He was up to date and beyond in the current class (he tended to work ahead since he had already known the curriculum before he was taught) as well as all of his others, so he found himself sliding his headphones over his ears and staring into space while Jeremy worked away, realizing he knew much more than he thought about coding. 

Michael fought to keep his expression neutral, having already worried Jeremy once this period, but found it difficult. He focussed on the notes and lyrics seeping through his headphones, but they sounded mangled and rushed in his racing mind. Why was he anxious? Nothing had happened, right? Right? 

And suddenly he was back in his English room. 

_“Are you okay, Michael?” _

_The question caught him off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?” _

_“Just making sure.” Miller sighed, his gaze seeming to linger on Michael’s desk just a little too long. _

No. Not his desk… His hoodie… Specifically the sleeve. The cuff of his sleeve that he hadn’t been holding when he woke up from his desk nap. Fuck. 

“Michael?” His headphones were taken off of him by hands that didn’t belong to him and Jeremy’s voice brought him back to the computer lab, now filled with enough idle chatter that no one other than Jeremy would hear his quickened breath. “Michael what’s wrong?” 

“I have to…” Michael couldn’t finish the sentence before he hopped up from his chair and was out the door, arms folded firmly across his stomach. 

“Michael!” Jeremy called after his friend as he disappeared, heads turned and faces were made but Jeremy didn’t care, he needed to follow. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Sullivan blocked his path as Jeremy got his feet beneath him and started for the door. 

“Michael, he-” 

“He can go wherever he’s going on his own. He’s a big boy.” The teacher rolled his eyes. Students always did this. Caused him to make a scene in his own classroom. 

“No Professor Sullivan you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry Jeremy but unless you want a zero on this test I can’t allow you to leave the room before submission.” 

“Fucking hell.” Jeremy spat, ran back to his computer, submitted his test, still unfinished, and glared at Professor Sullivan, daring him to get in Jeremy’s way again. 

“Proceed.” The old man grumbled, going back to his magazine without a second glance to the remaining students in his room. 

A quick sprint later, Michael was banging on the door to the Language Department lounge. Ms. Grant, a tiny, sweet old lady opened the door to the panting teen, concern crossing her face immediately. “Michael?” He’d been in her English class the previous year. “What’s wrong dear?” 

“Mr. Miller.” Michael gasped, breath lost due to his spiralling mental state more so than his dash across the school. “Is he here?” 

“Michael?” Miller suddenly appeared behind Ms. Grant, the same look on his face that had been there when he woke Michael up from his unintentional nap. “What can I do for you?” 

“I need to talk to you.” Michael demanded, not daring to elaborate. 

“Gladly.” Mr. Miller slipped past Ms. Grant and lead Michael down the hall a few doors to an empty classroom. 

“What did you mean when you asked me if I was okay?” Michael snapped as forcefully as he could in his trembling state as Miller shut the door behind him. 

The teacher sighed, eyes once again wandering to Michael’s arms. “I was simply-”

“What did you mean?” His voice was low and venomous. He needed to know. 

“I saw, Michael.” Miller took a couple steps forward, resulting in Michael taking just as many backward. 

“Fucking hell.” Michael felt the tremor in his body grow stronger. 

“Michael, do I need to call your parents?” 

“No!” Michael all but shouted. “No. No no.” 

“I think they need to be aware of-”

“I said no!” Michael did shout that time. “They know already.” His breath was getting shorter, hitching and gasping in his throat as he braced himself on the desk behind him. This couldn’t be happening. This. Wasn’t. Happening. 

“Michael calm down.” Miller’s eyes were wide as the boy before him shook and heaved, clearly not getting enough air. “Michael breathe.” But Michael couldn’t hear him. The blood was rushing too loud in his ringing ears. “Michael…” Mr. Miller reached out to place a tentative hand on the hyperventilating boy’s shoulder. He received a strangled cry and a harsh smack to his wrist in response. And Michael was off again, bolting out the door, legs carrying him to who knows where. Black crept closer to the center of his vision as he sprinted away. The hallway was closing in on him. Everything was too loud. Too loud. TOO LOUD. 

“Michael!” Mr. Miller’s voice mixed with Jeremy’s as they collided just outside the door of the classroom. Jeremy was knocked to the ground while Mr. Miller bounced into the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Miller offered a hand, but Jeremy just scrambled to his feet on his own, his target in sight. 

“Michael!” Mr. Miller let Jeremy go after him, promising himself that he would drill Michael’s best friend later. 

Michael bolted through the door at the end of the English hall, and fell flat on his face when he forgot about the three concrete steps that sat just outside. He tried to get his feet under him, but his limbs were shaking too hard and he didn’t have enough breath to do much else than lay there. The light breeze was like ice on his hands and face. The residential traffic on the other side of the school sounded like an eight lane highway. The band room had its window open to release the cacophony of squawking squeaking woodwinds and percussion that resembled a demolition site. 

_“He knows.”_ That was the one thought that broke through the noise and circled through his head. _“Someone else knows. No one is supposed to know! NO ONE! And now six people know what a freak you are!”_

“Michael!” Jeremy exploded from the door, on the ground in a second, not daring to touch his best friend. “Michael it’s me, it’s Jeremy. I need you to breathe for me.” 

But Michael could hardly hear him over the voices in his head. They were screaming at him all of the things he already knew. How awful and stupid and pathetic and horrible he was. About how he didn’t deserve Jeremy. Or Rich or Christine or Jake of Brooke or Chloe or Jenna. He deserved to be alone. 

“Michael come on man, breathe.” Jeremy was starting to get freaked out, he’d never seen Michael so far gone. Usually he was able to coach Michael back to breathing normally in a few minutes, but if Michael was hearing Jeremy’s voice, he wasn’t letting on. 

_“Pathetic, loser, faggot, useless, worthless, waste of space, disgusting, freak!”_

“Christine!” Jeremy sighed in relief when she answered her phone.

“Jeremy why are you calling me during class?” She demanded. Second period was drama. No one was to disturb her during drama. And he knew that. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to go to my classroom and get Michael’s headphones.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Please just do it.” Jeremy begged, wanting so badly to wrap Michael in the tightest hug known to man, but knowing that was a terrible idea. 

“Okay fine, where am I bringing them?” 

“English door, hurry, please!” he let his phone drop, feeling utterly useless as he stared down at Michael. Had he not known better Jeremy would have thought the boy on the ground was having a seizure, he was shaking that badly. He kept trying to get Michael to breathe, but he was completely oblivious to the world outside of his panic attack. 

The minute Jeremy waited for Christine was the longest minute of his life. But she came, headphones in hand, panting like she’d just run half a mile, which she had if she had been in the auditorium at the time of the phone call. The school was one continuous quarter mile hallway, theatre at one end, tech at the other. 

“Oh my god what’s-?” Jeremy snatched the headphones before she could finish her question and carefully maneuvered them so they sat properly on Michael’s head. The music was still playing from class, but Jeremy turned it up, hoping it would break through Michael’s wall. 

“What happened?” Christine asked, feeling a sting behind her eyes as she knelt behind Jeremy, wrapping her arms tightly across his chest. 

“Panic attack.” Jeremy hung his head, feeling a stab of guilt as he thought about how he had carelessly taken Michael’s headphones off, leaving him defenseless against the voices in his head. 

“Why?” The question was soft and curious. Unlike Jeremy had ever heard Christine’s voice before. 

“I don’t know.” Jeremy admitted. “I noticed he was spaced out and he took just off when I asked him about it.”

“Music helps?” 

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps.” Jeremy sighed. “I’m sorry I took you away from class.” 

“No no, Mr. Reyes will understand. This is more important.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Hey it’s okay.” Christine suddenly squeezed him tighter. Jeremy couldn’t figure out why until a tear splatted softly on his jeans. “Look, he’s already calming down.” It was true, Michael’s breathing was becoming less frantic and he was managing to reach up to press his headphones tighter against his ears. “What’s wrong?” 

“Coming down from adrenaline.” Jeremy explained, scrubbing the tears away. It happened sometimes when Michael needed him, but he tried not to let him see. “Christine, don’t take this the wrong way but… Can you go? Please? He doesn’t like people knowing about this kind of stuff.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Christine gave Jeremy one last squeeze and a gentle kiss on the neck before rising and heading back to the door. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst! And it just goes downhill from here! Thanks to everyone who stopped by, and those who came back for more! Leave a comment if you want, if not, I hope I'll see you next time! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy waited quietly until Michael was breathing properly again to speak. “You okay, buddy?” 

Michael’s eyes shot open at the sound of Jeremy’s voice. Where was he? How did he get his headphones back? Why was he on the ground? Why did his face sting? 

“Michael?” 

Michael felt his face burning red as he forced himself to sit up. He would have preferred to just stay on the ground, even if it was cold and wet and… sticky? 

“Ah geez man…” Jeremy grimaced at the sight as Michael reached a hand up to his face, fingers coming back slick and red. “Did you forget how to fall?” 

“I’m fine.” Michael turned his music down but couldn’t bring himself to turn it off completely. Not yet. 

“You’re not.” Jeremy shook his head, longing to reach out and hold Michael’s hand or give him a hug or something. Anything to not just stare at him. “You just faceplanted in the parking lot.” Jeremy chose to leave out the bit about Michael having a mental breakdown while performing said faceplant. 

“Jer I’m-”

“No, Michael, you aren’t, you-”

“Stop reminding me!” Michael snapped, curling in on himself. “I know! I’m not okay! I’m a freak! I’m a pathetic, worthless-!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Jeremy couldn’t help but reach out and grab Michael’s arm to shock him out of his spiral. “You know that’s not what I meant. I would never say that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Jeremy don’t deny-”

“Enough.” Jeremy’s voice was kind but firm. He hated when Michael did this. “Come on, we’re going to the nurse. You banged your face up pretty good.” 

“I don’t need to-”

“Yes, you do. Now come on.” Jeremy got to his feet, ignoring the jelly feeling in his legs, and offered a hand to Michael. He took it, and Jeremy did most of the work as he stood. 

“I’m sorry.” Michael hung his head as he slumped against Jeremy, barely able to stay on his feet even with the other boy propping him up. 

“You don’t have to be.” 

“I’m not worth your time.” 

“You are.” 

“Not when I’m like that.” 

“Hey.” Jeremy stopped in the middle of the hallway and made Michael look at him. “You’re always worth my time. Always. Even at three in the morning.” 

“Don’t make me think about that.” Michael shook his head, trying not to remember that night. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

“You good to keep going?” Jeremy glanced up at the clock. “Class gets out in two minutes.” 

“Please.” Michael nodded and continued forward despite his exhaustion and trembling. Collapsing in the nurse’s office was far preferable to being in the crowded hallway. 

The pair reached the nurse’s office as the bell rang, door closing just before the first students escaped their classrooms. 

“Michael what did you do?” Michael removed his headphones as Lydia-the school nurse who landed her job straight out of college-swooped under his other arm and helped Jeremy lower him onto the cot that couldn’t be seen from the window into the hallway. 

“Faceplanted in the parking lot.” Michael was breathing heavily, face shiny with sweat, exhausted from his episode. He hated that Lydia knew him. That he’d come to her so many times after his breakdowns that she knew him by name. He was supposed to be invisible. 

“Another panic attack?” She pressed gently, recognizing the post-anxiety grogginess. He just nodded in response. “Okay, well let’s get your face cleaned up and then I’ll let you rest, okay?” Another nod. 

“Hey, Michael?” Jeremy piped up from the corner as Lydia began collecting cotton balls, peroxide, and pain killers from various drawers and cabinets. “I’m just gonna go get our stuff, okay?” 

“Yeah.” Michael’s chest tightened at the thought of Jeremy leaving him alone, but then again, he wasn’t alone. Lydia was there. And either way, Lydia was paid to put up with Michael. Jeremy would get nothing in return. 

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” Jeremy tried for a reassuring smile as he slipped out the door. 

“So what happened?” Lydia returned to Michael’s bedside with her rolling cart and stool, getting to work on his scraped up cheek. 

“I don’t know.” Michael lied through his teeth, grateful for the horrible skill. “I’ve felt weird since this morning and I guess it just kind of built.” 

“What’s been going on lately?” Lydia was gentle in both her questioning and the dabbing of cotton, but both stung immensely. 

“I didn’t have my headphones on when it started.” Michael shrugged. Everyone who knew him knew that music was his safe haven. 

“I’m sure that didn’t help, but that’s not a cause.” 

“Honestly, I don’t know, Lydia.” Michael sighed, trying not to cringe away from the increased sting as peroxide was applied to his face. “Sometimes it’s hard to know. It could have been someone typing too loud or a door slamming at the end of the hall.” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Lydia placed a gloved hand on Michael’s tight, sweaty fist. “Relax.” He forced a deep breath, letting it out slow. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Lydia smiled as she went back to work. “Keep this clean, okay?” She instructed as she finished with her alcohols and ointments and cotton pads. “You don’t want it to get infected.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He’d gotten the infection lecture too many times. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” She smiled as she threw out her used materials and flashed a light in his eyes for good measure. “I’ll call your parents to let them know what happened. Is there anything else I need to tell them…?”

“No.” Michael’s voice was snappier than he intended, but he really just wanted to put his headphones on and lay down. 

“Okay.” Lydia clearly didn’t believe him, but she always respected his wishes. Except for that one time… “Rest now. You’re not going to class and I’m not letting you drive home like this.” 

“Okay.” Michael melted into the uncomfortable mattress, slipping his headphones on but not pressing play. He closed his eyes and listened as Lydia plopped back into her desk chair and dialed one of his mothers. 

“Hi, Mrs. Mell? It’s Lydia from Middleborough… Yes, so Michael had another panic attack and also ended up faceplanting in the parking lot. I’ve cleaned him up and done a concussion check… He’s calmed down now, I’m going to keep him here until the end of the day though… Yes I’ll make sure… Absolutely… no problem, goodbye.” 

“Sorry I took so long.” Jeremy rushed into the office, managing to run into the doorframe and Lydia’s desk as he did so. “Sullivan stopped to lecture me in the hall.” 

“Thanks.” Michael tried for a smile as he accepted his bag from Jeremy and dug through it until he found his water bottle. His throat was dry and sore from hyperventilating. 

“No worries. Do you want me to grab you something from the caf?” 

Oh right. That was the lunch bell. Michael’s stomach twisted in protest at the thought of food. Even his water seemed too heavy. “No, that’s okay, thanks though.” 

“Michael.” Lydia spun around in her chair to give him the same look his mothers gave him when he didn’t finish the food on his plate. 

“I’m really not hungry.” His voice was cracked and soft. 

“Well I’m going to get lunch myself, I’ll bring something back for you.” Lydia smiled and Michael tried not to glare as she left the office. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Jeremy demanded, the pieces falling into place before his eyes. 

“Jeremy really I’m not-”

“Answer my question.” 

Michael just hung his head. 

“Michael…” Jeremy pulled Lydia’s stool over. “I told you to tell me if it got bad again.” 

“I know.” Michael felt an all too familiar sting behind his eyes. 

“So why didn’t you?” His voice was gentle and kind. Michael almost thought it could have been genuine. But that couldn’t be right. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“For how long have you not wanted to bother me?” A long pause. “Michael, how long?” 

“October.” His voice was barely a whisper. 

“Before or after?” he didn’t need to say it out loud for Michael to know what he was talking about. 

“Before.” Michael lied. At least then it would be on him and not Jeremy. He knew Jeremy would beat himself into the ground if he thought he’d caused Michael any more pain than he already had. 

“Michael you could never bother me. Especially not with this stuff. I hate seeing you go through this. Let me be there for you.” 

“But I’m not-”

“If you’re going to say you’re not worth it stop right now. You were there for me when mom disappeared, and when dad wouldn’t put pants on for forever, and even after I didn’t talk to you for weeks. You’re always here Michael.” 

“Because you deserve the help.” 

“And why do you think you don’t?” 

“Because I’m annoying and dramatic.” 

“Not even close. I’ve never been annoyed by you. Not even when you made me listen to every single song by Bob Marley in alphabetical order instead of playing Apocalypse of the Damned.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Michael couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of that weekend. 

“Don’t be, like I said, I wasn’t even annoyed then.” 

“Thank you, Jeremy.” Michael reached out for a hug, melting into Jeremy’s shoulder as soon as the gangly arms were wrapped around him. 

“Anytime.” Jeremy held Michael for a few minutes, feeling him gradually getting heavier on his shoulder. “Lay down, you’re exhausted.” 

Michael nodded and curled up facing the wall away from Jeremy, sleep pulling at the edges of his mind. 

“I’ll be back at the end of the day, okay? Text me if you need anything.” 

“M’kay.” Michael yawned and turned up his music, Bob Marley serenading him as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have some fluffy stuff. I love me some Boyf Riends, but just as friends (unpopular opinion I know) Stage Dorks and Expensive Headphones are my life force <3


	4. Chapter 4

“OMG where have you two-?” Cloe’s question halted abruptly when Jeremy pulled up a chair without anti-social-headphones-kid at his side. “Where’s Michael?” 

“Nurses office.” Jeremy tensed as soon as he said that. Uh-oh.

“What?!” Jenna’s head snapped up from her phone at the prospect of gossip while everyone else’s brows drew together. “What happened?” 

“Oh nothing major, he ah, he just-” Jeremy couldn’t find a lie. He was never good at that. 

“He went to smoke after his test and tripped in the parking lot because he was waaaaaay too into his music.” Christine jumped in in the middle of her boyfriend’s unsuccessful scramble for an explanation. “With his hands in his pockets no less! He scraped his face up pretty bad and Lydia thought he might have had a concussion at first.” Christine let out a breathy chuckle, hoping Michael wouldn’t hate her too much for coming up with such a story. Though… it seemed as though it was in the realm of possibility for him… “I was grabbing a prop from a friend’s car and saw him go down.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Jake practically snorted with laughter as the rest of the table erupted in cackles. 

“Michael’s not going to like this.” Jeremy’s inner voice sighed. “But he would hate them knowing the truth more.” 

“He’s such a dork.” The glint in Rich’s eyes was obvious as he pictured Michael dancing through the parking lot and suddenly disappearing behind his PT. 

“How much on the table that it was a Marley song?” Brooke rolled her eyes. 

“Oh it was absolutely a Marley song!” 

Christine caught Jeremy’s eye in the commotion, silently begging for forgiveness. He just shook his head, telling her it was okay. 

“Don’t rag on him too hard, guys.” Jeremy led them out of their laughter and back to the present. “He may be the biggest dork to have ever dorked, but he did save all of our asses.” 

The table lapsed into silence. No one liked remembering back to first semester of junior year. Especially not Jeremy. But if that was what it took to keep them off Michael’s back… then Jeremy would remember it forever. 

“Anyways.” Jeremy spoke up again after a minute. “Why exactly were you demanding our presence, Chloe?” 

“Oh right.” Chloe bounced back quickly to her classic self. “We were deciding what fro-yo place to complain about this Friday.” 

“I have a list of all of the ones that are a fifteen minute drive away or less.” Brooke pulled out her notebook to display a colour-coded list. 

“Wow, you take your frozen yogurt really seriously, don’t you?” Christine’s eyes widened at the work Brooke had undoubtedly carried out during class time. 

“I just like tradition.” Brooke shrugged. 

“She’s a creature of habit.” Chloe gazed at her best friend lovingly. 

“I remember you used to get so upset when we had P.A. days in elementary school because it would throw off our rotation schedule.” Jenna elbowed Brooke playfully, receiving a glare in return. 

“I’m just saying. Monday is the start of the week so it should have always been the day one schedule.” Brooke shot back. “I don’t care if we missed Friday classes or not.” 

“What if you had a Monday holiday?” Rich interjected. 

“Yeah, then Tuesday would have been the start of the week. What then?” Jake tacked on. 

“Guuuuyyyysssss.” Brooke whined and Chloe shot a warning look to everyone who had spoken in the last thirty seconds. 

“Okay, so what do you think we should do?” Chloe returned the conversation to what they had been discussing. No matter how bitchy she could be, if anyone made Brooke upset, she would rip their head off with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Well we could start from furthest away and work our way back inwards.” Brooke seemed lost in thoughts as she stared at her list. “Or we could organize them based on reviews and go worst to best…” 

Jeremy drifted off for a minute, able to imagine Michael saying something about following as closely to the Fibonacci spiral as possible. His remark would first be met with silence for a moment, then proceed to someone questioning what he was talking about, him scrambling to defend what he’d said, and end with everyone laughing. And he would laugh along. Whether the laugh was genuine or not, Jeremy sometimes had a hard time figuring out. 

Jeremy was startled out of his thought by a large set of hands clapping in his face. He jumped, about to ask Jake whether or not he was trying to give him a heart attack, but saw everyone staring at him and realised he’d been zoned out for longer than he thought. 

“You good?” Rich asked from across the table. “You were off somewhere else for a minute there.” 

“Yeah, fine, just thinking about my test next period.” That lie was easy enough. He did have a test next period. “So did we come up with a solution or what?” 

“Yeah.” Jenna plucked the baseball cap off of Jake’s head and tossed the confetti Jeremy had failed to notice earlier into it. “We’re all picking a place out of the hat then going to those places in alphabetical order based on our names.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll draw for Michael too?” 

“That’s what we were thinking.” Brooke smiled. 

The hat got passed around, Brooke recording what everyone pulled, creating a directory for the next two months if they needed it. Who knew there were so many frozen yogurt places in New Jersey? 

“Perfect!” Brooke squealed when her list was complete. “We’re all set for until Pink Berry reopens its glorious doors!” 

And cue the bell for fourth period. 

“Shit, scatter!” Rich cackled as everyone scrambled to collect their belongings. 

“Bye guys!” Jeremy and Christine called over their shoulders as they fought through the post lunch crowd to get to world history. 

“You’re worried about him.” Christine prompted once they were out of earshot from the others. 

“Yeah.” Jeremy hung his head, fingers tightly intertwined with Christine’s to keep them together in the tidal wave of students. 

“It was pretty scary to see him like that.” She admitted, trying not to remember back to the sight of Michael practically convulsing on the cracked asphalt outside of the English hallway. 

“Always is.” Jeremy sighed again. He really needed to stop with the sighing. “And he won’t let me help him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He always tries to tell me he’s fine and he doesn’t need help. He won’t let me in.”

“Have you told him it’s hard for you to see him like that?” 

“I don’t want to guilt him.” Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t want to make it about me in those situations.” 

“That’s fair.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Jeremy swooped down and gave his love a quick peck as they walked in the door, barely beating the second bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Michael came around a couple hours later to Lydia shaking his shoulder gently, longing to go back to his dreamless pit. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Yeah.” Michael reached up to rub his eyes, noticing first his lack of spectacles, then his lack of headphones. 

“They’re right here.” Lydia grabbed his stuff from the table next to his bed as he sat up and stretched. “I didn’t want you breaking them. Either of them.” 

“Thanks.” Michael returned his glasses to their rightful position and placed his headphones around his neck. Even if they didn’t have music coming through them, his headphones made him feel safe. 

“I also brought you this.” Lydia handed him a bottle of orange juice. “You may not be hungry but you’re gonna at least drink that.” 

“Fine.” Michael cracked the lid and took a deep drink, trying to ignore the bitter taste it left in his mouth. He didn’t need Lydia lecturing him on the importance of eating; he got that enough from all three of his mothers. Especially Jeremy. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” Michael recapped the bottle and rested it on his knee. 

“Have you been sleeping recently?” 

“Where’d that come from?” 

“You looked exhausted when you came in.” 

“I had just finished thinking I was going to die for about fifteen minutes, that really takes it out of you.” Michael tried for a joke but it fell flat. 

“You know what I mean.” Lydia pressed with a gentle voice. 

“I’ve been sleeping enough.” Michael shrugged. 

“How much is enough?” 

“Five or six hours?” He doubled-maybe tripled-his estimate, not needing a lecture on the importance of daily loss of consciousness either. 

Lydia considered his answer, comparing it to the bags beneath Michael’s eyes. “Okay.” She sighed. There was no use in pushing. Michael would just push back harder with his all too believable goofy grin. “The final bell just went, finish that before you leave.” She nodded to the orange juice in his hand. Michael’s stomach reeled at the thought of forcing anything more down his throat but chugged the rest of the bottle before he could gag. 

“Can I go now?” Michael stood up from the bed as he tossed the empty bottle, his mind wandering to Rich and what kind of computer problems he would be fixing. That and how he was going to explain away his already scabbing face. 

“Yeah.” Lydia sighed with a reluctant smile. 

“Well,” Michael slipped his headphones on and tugged his hood up, preparing to disappear into the crowd of people who still didn’t know his name, but recognized his headphones as belonging to one of the losers who had somehow been inducted into the ‘cool kids’ group, “thanks for today.”

“Anytime.” 

Michael shouldered his bag and kept his head down as he navigated the foot traffic, Pink Floyd blasting in his ears to drown out the cacophony of Middleborough’s student body. He escaped out the closest door he could find, much preferring to walk around the school than through it at this hour. As he made his way to the parking lot, Michael pulled out his phone, realising he hadn’t checked it since second period. His mothers and Jeremy had probably been bombarding him with texts all day. 

**Player 2 (12:13pm)** Dude I’m so sorry! I accidentally let it slip that you were at the nurse’s office at lunch! But I told them you were jamming too hard in the parking lot and wiped out. I’m sssooooo sorry 

**Player 1 (3:16pm)** No worries. Sounds like something I would do anyway ;p 

**Player 2 (3:16pm)** I also told them not to bug you about it. Hopefully they listen. 

**Player 1 (3:17pm)** it’s whatever if they don’t. You want a ride home? 

**Player 2 (3:17pm)** Nah, walking with Christine. Thanks though. Let me know if you need anything. 

**Player 1 (3:17pm)** Will do 

Michael closed his conversation with Jeremy and moved onto his mothers. 

**Mom v 1.0 (12:42pm)** Michael how are you feeling? Lydia told us what happened. I thought you said the panic attacks were getting better? What happened? Feel better, I’ll see you tonight. -mom 

**Michael (3:18pm)** Sorry I was sleeping. I’m fine. They have been getting better. I’m not sure what happened. I’m going to Rich’s to help him with some computer problems. See you later. 

There would be hovering that night once Michael was home from Rich’s place. 

**Mom v 1.1 (1:15pm)** Hey sweetie, hope you’re feeling okay, love you <3 

**Michael (3:20pm)** I’m better now, going to Rich’s though, see you later. 

Once they were dealt with, Michael moved onto the message from Rich. 

**Short-ass (3:01pm)** hey tall-ass told me what happened if ur not up to comin over 2nite just lemme no 

**Tall-ass 2 (3:21pm)** nah I’m good so long as you don’t mind staring at my ugly mug for a couple hours ;p 

**Short-ass (3:21pm)** sounds like a dream ;p im at ur car 

**Tall-ass 2 (3:21pm)** be there in a sec

Michael smirked at Rich’s messages. His flirty personality had really come out since the incident, and it was entertaining to say the least. 

“Hey!” Michael threw on his signature grin when Rich came into view, leaning against the passenger side of Michael’s car. 

“Hey-” Rich’s head popped up from his phone and his eyes widened when he saw Michael’s bruised, swollen, scraped up face. “Yeesh. You really did a number on yourself, eh buddy?” 

“Yeah.” Michael chuckled as he pulled his hood down, placing his headphones around his neck. “It’ll be fine in a couple days.” 

“I’ll miss your pretty face.” Rich winked as the two tossed their bags in the back and got into their respective front seats. “Wait, you’re good to drive right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Michael’s brows drew together as he turned his key in the ignition and pulled out of his spot, beginning the trek home. 

“Chris said you were out here smoking when you fucked your face up.” 

“Oh, that.” Christine? Why had Christine been making excuses? Jeremy… “That was hours ago. And anyways I never go too far at school. Just need to take the edge off sometimes ya know?” 

“Got it.” Rich nodded. 

“I gotta stop by my place real quick to grab some stuff before we head to yours. Wanna pick a CD?” he nodded towards the glove box in front of Rich.

“You still listen to CD’s?” Rich opened the glovebox and found a rainbow of albums staring back at him. 

“I prefer vinyl or cassettes, but even my car isn’t old enough to have a cassette slot.” 

“You are the weirdest hipster I’ve ever met.” Rich shook his head as he flipped through the mountain of disks. 

“Because I’m not a hipster.” Michael pointed out. “I just like old stuff.” 

“Same difference.” 

“That’s a contradictory statement.” 

“Oh my god shut up!” Rich laughed as he slipped a Van Halen CD into the slot. 

“No!” Michael laughed despite feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. It was what was expected. “I will never back down!” 

“The grammar Nazi hath spoken, I shall cease to speaketh incorrectly.” 

“Hey that was almost iambic pentameter!” Michael beamed as he pulled into his empty driveway. 

“What?!” Rich laughed again. “What the fuck is ‘I am the contamitor’?” 

It was Michael’s turn to laugh at that one. “What the hell did you just say?” 

“I said what you said!” 

“That is absolutely not what I said!” The laugh was genuine. It felt nice. “Jesus Christ, let’s just move on.” 

“Agreed.” Rich wiped a tear from his eye. 

“Wanna wait here or run in with me?” Michael swivelled around to grab his bag and pulled his key from the ignition. 

“I’ll come in, never been to your place before.” 

“Cool.” Michael smiled and hopped out of the car, Rich not far behind as they went around to the back door. The one that led directly to Michael’s basement bedroom. 

“Woah! Your room is sick!” Rich’s eyes practically bulged out as he took in Michael’s cave. Posters for videogames, movies, and bands covered his walls to the point that you could barely see they had been painted neon blue then splattered with black and white. His bed was pressed into the far corner, underneath a colour changing neon sign that read ‘weird is rad,’ and next to the table his record player perched upon. On another wall was a fifty five inch TV that sprouted every Nintendo console from the N64 to the Switch, as well as a PS3, PS4, Xbox 360, and an Xbox One. A homemade dual monitor PC sat on a desk in another corner alongside a massive black leather couch, and there were two gigantic beanbag chairs in the middle of the black carpet, one striped with red, yellow, and green, the other rainbow tie-dye. 

“Thanks.” Michael blushed a he went over to his desk, emptied out his school stuff and began packing supplies into his backpack. “My moms kind of spoil me. They feel guilty about me getting picked on for years because they’re gay.” 

“Wait, you actually have two moms?” Rich wandered to Michael’s bookshelf that was packed with videogames, sci-fi novels, manga, old comic books, vinyl, cassettes, DVD’s and VHS tapes. 

“Yeah.” 

“Huh. I thought that was a joke.” 

“Why would I joke about that?” 

“I don’t know.” Rich shrugged. “Anyway that’s awesome. And they’re like, cool with you being into dudes and shit, right?” 

“Well it would be awfully hypocritical for them not to be.” Michael chuckled. 

“True.” Rich rolled his eyes. “Sucks that people made fun of you for that though.” 

“Says my former tormentor?” 

“Hey I never made fun of you for your moms, just you!” Rich paused, regretting his words as soon as they tumbled from his mouth. “Shit- ah- fuck- um…” 

“Nah, I get it.” Michael turned back to collecting his tools, hoping Rich hadn’t caught the hurt flash across his face. 

“Michael no, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Michael forced a laugh. “It’s all in the past, we’re friends now.” 

“Because I finally realised how cool you are.” 

“And I’m glad you did.” He zipped up his bag and shouldered it as he turned to his friend. “Ready to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof... I forgot how hards it is to write and remember to upload during school. Gotta love college! Anyway. Thanks for reading, hope y'all enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the message pinged through, Jeremy grabbed his phone. He knew it was Michael by the Pac Man death sound ringtone. 

**Player 1 (3:34pm)** Christine told Rich about why my face looks like this? 

Jeremy’s heart sunk immediately. “Fuck” 

“What’s wrong?” Christine reached across the table to take Jeremy’s hand, ignoring her already melting McFlurry. 

“Michael knows you know.” Jeremy’s brows drew tightly together as he furiously typed away. 

**Player 2 (3:34pm)** I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you alone and I knew you needed your music so I sent her to get your headphones. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. 

“I don’t understand, why would it be such a bad thing for us to know?” Christine asked when Jeremy’s thumbs paused. 

“It’s… complicated.” Jeremy sighed. “He hid it from me for the longest time, and I’ve known him since kindergarten. He doesn’t like relying on other people. It’s really hard for him to open up.” 

“Has he seen a doctor about it? If he’s having panic attacks like that on a regular basis…” 

“He’s on anti-depressants, but he started having the panic attacks after he started taking them. To be honest I don’t know if he’s gone back.” 

“Do you know what causes it?” 

“One sec.” 

**Player 1 (3:36pm)** It’s okay. Out of anyone I’m glad it was her. Thanks for not calling Jenna lol

**Player 2 (3:36pm)** I promise no one else knows anything. But Christine kinda saw you in the middle of it so… she knows a little. 

**Player 1 (3:36pm)** how much? 

**Player 2 (3:37pm)** That you have anxiety and get panic attacks. That much was obvious 

**Player 1 (3:37pm)** lol I guess it would be. Anyways gotta go, heading to Rich’s now. Byyeee

**Player 2 (3:37pm)** Byyeee

“Sorry, I’m a horrible multitasker.” Jeremy placed his phone down and looked back up at Christine across the greasy McDonald’s booth. 

“I’m aware. You can’t even hold my hand and eat your ice cream at the same time.”

“I can too!” Jeremy tried to prove himself, but rather tipped his ice cream over and had to release Christine’s hand to keep it from falling off the table. 

“Told ya.” Christine giggled. 

“Whatever.” Jeremy smiled. “What were we talking about?” 

“What causes Michael’s anxiety.” 

“Oh right, that.” Jeremy felt his shoulders slouching as he thought back to the first panic attack Michael had ever had. 

*****

_Jeremy rolled over, startled out of his half-asleep state by the Apocalypse of the Damned theme. It was almost midnight, why was Michael calling him? “Hello?” _

_“Jerem-” Michael’s greeting was cut off on the other end of the line and Jeremy shot out of bed to the sound of hyperventilated breaths. _

_“Michael what’s wrong?” he was already grabbing a jacket from his closet. _

_“I don’t… can’t… Jer…” _

_“I’m on my way, try to breathe, okay?” Jeremy tried to hide the tremor in his voice as he ran down the stairs, stepped into the first pair of shoes he saw, and flew out the door. “Are you at home?” _

_“Yeah… moms aren’t… here.” Michael’s strangled breaths and whimpers sent a chill down Jeremy’s spine. Michael had always been the strong one between the two of them. To hear him so… broken… it felt like one of Dustin Kropp’s punches to the gut. _

_“You’re home alone?” Jeremy was running, it would have taken too long to drag his dad out of bed, and being fourteen, he couldn’t yet drive. “Did something happen?” _

_“Don’t… know… can’t… breathe.” _

_“I’m on my way buddy, just try, okay?” Jeremy had no idea what to do, but breath coaching seemed appropriate for someone who couldn’t breathe right? Remind them how? “Come on, man, breathe for me.” _

_“I’m trying!” Michael shouted, making Jeremy flinch away from the phone. “Hurts…” _

_“What hurts?” Jeremy chose not to acknowledge the scream and keep Michael talking. _

_“Lungs… heart… head…” _

_“I’m almost there.” Jeremy assured as he turned down Michael’s street, thankful for the adrenaline that kept his breath somewhere close to normal as he sprinted as hard as he could. _

_“Jer…” _

_“I’m coming Michael.” Jeremy ran around to the back of the house, glad to find the door that would lead him to Michael unlocked. He hung up the phone and pounded down the basement stairs. _

_“Michael?” He dropped to his knees before the shaking, sweating, crying form of Michael on the basement floor, curled into the fetal position. Jeremy reached out to place a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, but pulled back when Michael flinched and screamed. _

_“Don’t touch me!” _

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jeremy scooted a couple of inches back, not sure what to do to help. “Michael what do you need?” _

_“Don’t know…” he groaned. _

_“Should I call your moms?” _

_“No… don’t want… them… to worry.” _

_“Michael-”_

_“No! Just… give me… a… minute.”_

_Michael had been trying to regain control of his breath, fighting against his body’s natural instinct, but since that hadn’t been helping, he tried to relax and let his lungs take over. It was terrifying, being out of control, unable to move or blink or breathe as usual. He’d barely been able to drag himself five feet to get his phone to call Jeremy. Come to think of it, why had he called Jeremy? Oh, right, because he’d felt like he was going to die for a minute there. _

_“Good, you’re doing so good.” Jeremy’s voice cut through his inner monologue and Michael realised that he was beginning to feel the breath filling his lungs again. The ache in his chest was still there, but lessening with every full breath he managed. _

_And suddenly, it dawned on him. He knew what he needed. “Headphones…?” Michael begged and Jeremy was on his feet in an instant, tripping over himself to get the requested item as fast as possible. _

_Michael reached out with shaking hands, pressing the personal speakers over his ears tightly as Jeremy connected the cord to Michael’s phone and selected a Marley playlist labeled as ‘sleep option four.’ Sounded calming. _

_Slowly but surely Michael’s breathing returned to a normal rate, and his body looked to be relaxing, though he was still trembling horribly after ten agonizing minutes. _

_“You okay?” Jeremy asked softly as Michael began to pry himself off the floor. _

_“Better.” He let his headphones fall around his neck, leaving the music loud enough so he could still hear it leaching out into the room. “I’m sorry.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in crossed arms. _

_“Hey, what for?” Jeremy experimentally reached out, and was surprised when Michael lurched into his arms rather than smacking him away. _

_“I woke you up and made you come over here.” Michael cried into Jeremy’s shoulder. _

_“Okay, well, first: you didn’t even ask me, I came because I wanted to.” Jeremy held his best friend tight. “And second: How many times did you sneak out to come see me after my mom left?” _

_“That was different.” _

_“I don’t think so.” Jeremy shrugged. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?” _

_Michael took a deep, shuddering breath and disengaged himself from Jeremy, preparing for the worst as he sat cross legged in front of his friend. “I’m gay.” Michael’s voice was barely above a whisper. _

_“I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me that.” Jeremy reached out and took Michael’s trembling hands in his own stable ones with a smile. “But I don’t see what that has to do with you having a panic attack on the floor at almost midnight.” _

_“Is that what it was?” Michael mused. “A panic attack?” _

_“I think so.” Jeremy shrugged. “I’ve never seen or had one but that seemed pretty spot on from what I’ve heard.” _

_“Well then…” Michael tried for a chuckle but it came out as more of hiccupping sob. _

_“So what does your sexuality have to do with this situation?” Jeremy pressed gently. Getting Michael to talk about his negative feelings had always been difficult. He was the absolute king of redirecting attention away from himself when he wanted to. _

_“I figured it out a while ago.” He began, not bothering to try to stop the tears that were still pouring. “And every time I think about it I just think about my moms and how they’re always apologizing for people beating me up and picking on me and making fun of me because they’re gay and… I don’t know it just got to be too much and…” _

_“It’s okay.” Jeremy opened his arms and let Michael melt into his shoulder again as he heaved and shuddered. “Do they know?” Michael shook his head. _

_“I’m scared to tell them.” He admitted. “It’s stupid. You’d think coming out to a couple of lesbians would be easier, but for forever all they’ve done is apologize for who they are…” _

_“Do you think they’ll be disappointed?” _

_“No… well… I don’t know.” Michael pushed off of Jeremy, tears slowing as he talked. “It’s weird. I’m always telling them not to be ashamed of who they are or feel bad about it. And now here I am crying on the floor because I’m ashamed of who I am.” _

_“Well don’t be.” Jeremy smiled. “You’re the best person I know. Cooler than a vinyl record.” _

_“Thanks, Jer.” _

*****

“Jeez…” Christine breathed when Jeremy finished his story. “That’s gotta be rough.” 

“It really was for a few months. When you’re constantly hearing ‘the source of your pain is our sexuality’ and shit like that…His moms didn’t even realize that they were sending homophobic messages to him, so it really messed him up when he figured himself out. He hated himself for a long time.” 

“Poor Michael…” Christine grimaced. 

“He got over the self-loathing stuff eventually, but the anxiety and depression stuck around. Every so often he’ll have an episode. He usually gets set off by sensory overload.” 

“Is that why he always had his headphones with him?” 

“And why he always wears that hoodie.” Jeremy nodded. 

“I never would have guessed.” Christine sighed. “Michael Mell of all people…” 

“He’s usually fine.” Jeremy gave Christine’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Honestly, he’s gotten a lot better. Just since the… incident… last semester… he’s gone a bit downhill. And it really didn’t help his reluctance to rely on people.” 

“I bet not.” 

“Well, at least he’ll be more inclined to ask for help after today.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Usually when he has an episode and I help him out of it he remembers that I’m there for him. So if he has any more in the next couple of weeks I’ll hear about them. Hopefully.”


	7. Chapter 7

“And… done.” Michael gave a final twist to the last screw, ensuring Rich’s laptop wouldn’t fall apart on him. Rich sat up from where he’d been lounging on his bed and reached towards the floor as Michael held out the machine from his spot on the rug. “It should run much faster now.” 

Rich clicked around for a moment, face lighting up when he was able to open Word, PowerPoint, Chrome, and his notepad all at once without the screen freezing or glaring blue. “You’re a lifesaver, man!” Rich ruffled Michael’s hair with a grin. “How did you fix it?” 

“I just installed an SSD, increased your RAM, and messed with your graphics a bit.” 

“English?” 

“I upgraded it using old computer parts of mine that were still up to date for your purposes.” 

“Thank you, seriously.” Rich shut his laptop and tossed it on his bed, turning to face Michael. “What do I owe you?” 

“Nothing.” Michael shrugged as he began packing up his bag. 

“Wrong answer.” Rich crossed his arms. 

“Fine.” Michael chuckled. “Buy me a slushie.” 

“You’re impossible!” Rich laughed and threw his arms over his head. “You just saved me like five hundred bucks.” 

“And you’ll save me three.” Michael winked, his goofy laugh that he hated so much permeating the room. 

“Miiichaaaeeellll.” Rich whined. 

“Fine, buy me a slushie every day for the rest of the week and save me twelve bucks.” 

“But you just completely fixed my laptop!” 

“Which I enjoyed doing.” 

“Ugh why are you like this?” 

“I wish I had the answer to that.” 

“Fine, I’ll buy you slushies for the rest of the week.” 

“Awe thanks Rich! You’re so kind!” 

“Shut up!” The boys fell into another giggle fit and Michael finished packing his stuff. 

“Listen.” Rich’s voice sounded much more somber when he stopped laughing. “I hate to kick you out but… my dad will be home soon and… you don’t really wanna be around when he gets here.” 

Michael shouldered his bag but remained on the floor. “He’s drinking again?” 

“Yeah…” Rich hung his head. Michael was the only person he’d gone into depth with regarding his father. Something about him just made people open up and dump their luggage as soon as he showed up. Michael didn’t mind, though. He loved helping his friends. It made him feel some semblance of self-worth. 

“Rich, if I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” 

“Maybe.” Rich looked up quizzically. 

“Does he still hurt you?” 

Rich flinched. “What do you mean ‘still’?” 

“I do remember you from freshman year.” Michael admitted. He’d always been intrigued by the loser who had fought his way into the cool crowd in one single summer. “We had gym together.” 

“We did?” Rich’s eyes widened and his brows drew together as he racked his brain for an image of freshman Michael, but came up blank. It was impossible to picture him without the hoodie and headphones. 

“We did.” Michael tried for a soft smile. “You refused to wear shorts or t-shirts, even when we were running the mile in ninety five degree weather. And you sat out a lot because of injuries. When you first told me about his drinking problem the pieces kind of fell into place.” 

Rich was quiet for a moment. No matter how much he’d told Michael about his dad being drunk when he arrived home and passing out by nine, he’d never mentioned anything about being physically harmed. “Sometimes.” He breathed. He couldn’t figure out why he was admitting it to Michael, but it felt kind of… good… to have it out in the universe. 

“Rich…” Michael sighed, not sure where he had intended to end up when he began the interrogation. 

“Don’t give me the lecture about getting away.” Rich rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard it before.” 

“Can I ask why you’re not trying to, though?” 

“It didn’t get really bad until high school. And when I had the… you know… it taught me how to react to him and fight back. And now… I have just over a year until I’m out of here. I’m going away for college. Maybe not out of state, but definitely out of the city. When my mom left she gave me a shit ton of guilt money he doesn’t know about so I can go to whatever school I want. I can deal with it till then.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Michael pressed. 

“Whatever.” Rich shrugged. “He gets home after six and passes out before nine, so I only really have to deal with it for a couple hours if I’m even home.” 

“Well, if you ever need somewhere to crash… my beanbag chairs are super comfortable. Jeremy and I have passed out on them way too many times.” 

“I believe it.” Rich smirked. “Thanks, man.” 

“Anytime.” Michael dragged himself up off the ground. “Oh and-”

“Fuck.” Rich cut Michael off mid-sentence, his trained ears picking up the sound of his dad’s car pulling into the driveway. “Why the hell is he home so early?” 

“You okay?” Michael’s fingers tightened around the straps of his backpack as Rich peered out the window that overlooked the front of the house. 

“Not really.” Rich shuddered. “This won’t be fun, but if you just shut up and keep your head down he won’t bother you.” 

“Okay…?” Michael felt that all too familiar fist closing around his heart and Rich slipped noiselessly out of his bedroom. Michael tried to do the same, but his taller, clunkier frame mixed with his awkward gate and backpack full of electronic accessories made the whole ‘silent’ thing quite difficult. 

“Richard!” the slurred shout accompanied the front door slamming, and Michael could swear he smelled the alcohol from halfway down the stairs. “Who’s car’s out there? You gotta giiiirl over?” 

“Nope.” Rich continued down the stairs at the same pace, not even flinching at the crashing voice. His father came into view, swaying with a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, button down shirt mostly untucked from his dress pants. “A boy.” 

“Always forget you’re a faggot.” His father cackled at the sight of Michael trying not to curl in on himself while Rich, at least four inches shorter, stood tall, arms crossed against his chest. “Did I interrupt your fuuun?” 

“No, we finished before you go here. He was just leaving.” Rich sidestepped the drunken mountain, pushing him away from the door so they could exit out onto the porch. 

“Byyyeeeee.” Rich’s dad waved. “If you ever get sick of my offspring…” he trailed off, crudely grabbing his crotch and cackling as Rich shoved a grimacing Michael out the door. 

“I’m sorry.” Rich let out a breath, hands on his knees, shaking his head. “He’s gross.” 

“Rich, I mean it. If you need a place-”

“I might take you up on it sometime, but tonight will be fine.” Rich stood back up and gazed into Michael’s eyes. “He’s in a good mood, way past the angry ‘let’s beat up my son’ phase. He’ll be collapsed on the living room floor in half an hour.” 

“Rich I-”

“Don’t worry about me.” He smiled. “Get outta here, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay.. see ya.” Rich slipped back inside and Michael wandered to his car, guilt boiling in his stomach as he thought about Rich and the drunk. He wanted nothing more than to drag his friend home with him and call child protective services, but he also didn’t want to make Rich mad. 

“He told you to go. Just listen to him.” Michael whispered to himself as he turned the key and reversed out of the driveway. 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“Michael.” His mother commanded from the landing above as he tried to sneak down into his room. “You’re not hiding from us.” 

“I was just going to put my bag down.” He shrugged, looking up innocently into Mom 1.0’s face. 

“Fine, but come up right after. Your mother is making dinner.” And she disappeared around the corner. Michael sighed dejectedly and headed down the stairs to dump his bag on his bed before dragging himself back up to see his parents. 

“Hey sweetie.” Mom 1.1 looked up from the potatoes she was mashing with a smile when Michael fell into his usual seat at the table. “Feeling better?” 

“Much.” Michael smiled back. Dinner smelled good, but his stomach reeled at the thought of food. 

“Good.” She turned back to the stove just as Mom 1.0 came into the room, placing a quick peck on her wife’s cheek. 

“That looks like it hurts.” Mom 1.0 mused when Michael pulled his hood down, scraped up face out for the world to see. He just shrugged. 

Mom 1.0-or Dianne as most other people called her-was his biological mother. After getting married, they’d found an anonymous sperm donor (who was clearly of Filipino decent considering Michael’s facial structure and tanned skin tone). When he’d first learned about the process, Michael had been confused and rather curious about his biological father, but he eventually stopped wondering if every Filipino man he passed on the street could be the one who shared his DNA. It didn’t matter who his dad was, he had a set of parents and his family was complete as far as he could see. 

Mom 1.1 (Kelly) was the easier to talk to of his mothers. She was much more laid back than her wife. She was the one who Michael would go to when he was feeling up for sharing his feelings because she knew how to listen and ask the right questions without scaring him off. 

“You hungry at all?” Mom 1.1 asked as Mom 1.0 grabbed plates from the cabinet to help dish out dinner. 

“Maybe a little.” Michael held back his gag as a plate full of a mountain of mashed potatoes, hundreds of green peas, and a disgustingly large chicken breast was placed in front of him. 

“Did you eat anything today?” Mom 1.0 asked in what could almost be described as a demanding tone. 

“Yes, Lydia made me eat when I woke up.” Michael wasn’t telling a complete lie. She had forced that orange juice down his throat. It had to count for something. 

“What did you have?” Mom 1.1 slid into her spot, her voice much gentler than 1.0’s 

“Soup, orange juice, and Jell-O.” 

“And how much did you actually eat?” Mom 1.0 was always doubting him. He couldn’t blame her really, considering how much he did lie to his moms, but it was annoying nonetheless. 

“She didn’t let me leave until I ate half the soup, all of the Jell-O and drank all of the juice.” 

“Good.” Mom 1.1 beamed and the guilt in Michael’s chest tightened. Had he actually eaten what he said he had, it would be more than they’d witnessed him consume in months. “Just try.” She’d always been the more understanding one. She was the one who would talk to the doctors about why Michael couldn’t sleep or eat. She had always wanted to learn absolutely everything she could about Michael’s fucked up mind. 

“I’ll do my best.” He promised with no clue of where he would even begin to tackle his daunting meal. _“You’re so damn pathetic.”_ That voice came back. The same one that yelled at him during his panic attacks. _“Why are you alive if a plate of food scares you?”_

_“Shut up.”_ He told the voice and defiantly shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. They were bland enough that he didn’t feel too nauseated by them.

“Michael?” Mom 1.0’s voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“Hmm?” He looked up to find two sets of eyes on him. He’d clearly missed something. 

“I was just saying that I think you might was to considering going back to Dr. Evans if the panic attacks are getting worse.” Mom 1.1 reached across the table and set a gentle hand on Michael’s now clenched fist. 

“It didn’t really help when I was seeing her.” Michael stared down at his plate, the single bite he’d taken already feeling like too much. 

“But it didn’t hurt either.” Mom 1.0 pointed out. 

“But I don’t want you guys spending money on me that’s not going to good use.” Michael already felt immensely guilty about everything he’d put them through with his mental health, and add the fact that they’d bought nearly everything that decorated his room… they spoiled him too much and he so didn’t deserve it. 

“We’ll make you a deal.” Mom 1.1 piped up as she rubbed gentle circles into the back of Michael’s hand with her thumb. “You see her for two weeks, just four visits, and if you improve at all you’ll keep seeing her, but if you feel like it’s not helping we won’t make you stick with it. Does that sound like something you could do?” 

“I guess.” Michael shrugged, wanting nothing more than to excuse himself from the table and get stoned. Sometimes weed was the only answer. At a certain point music just didn’t cut it anymore. Unfortunately, his parents would never approve of him smoking, especially not in the house, so Michael wouldn’t be able to until hours later when they were asleep. 

“Good.” His moms smiled and went back to their dinner, chatting idly about work and an upcoming cruise they were taking. Michael mostly just pushed his food around, taking one bite for every seven or eight his moms did. Three forkfuls of peas, another bite of mashed potatoes, and one miniscule nibble of chicken later, Michael’s stomach was warning him that if anything else went down, everything was coming up. He pushed his plate away before that could happen.

“Michael you barely touched your dinner.” Mom 1.0 mused as she polished off the last of hers. She even headed over to the stovetop for seconds. 

“I’m full.” He sighed. He was more than full. He felt like his stomach was about to burst. 

“You can’t try for just a little more?” Mom 1.1 gave an encouraging smile. 

Michael would rather throw the plate across the room than give it another look, but his mothers’ pleading eyes convinced him to ignore the pain in his stomach. He felt their gaze on him as he stabbed a hunk of chicken he’d previously ripped away from the larger piece. It tasted metallic and fleshy as he forced himself to chew and swallow. Disgusting. The potatoes were the easiest. He managed four more bites of the flavourless mound before he felt the nausea in his throat. If he ate any more he would be sick. No doubt. 

“I can’t.” Michael shoved his plate away with a little more force than he intended. 

“That’s fine.” Mom 1.1 nodded before 1.0 could say anything, but that look of concern was there. The one that grabbed hold of Michael’s heart and pulled so hard he could barely breathe. 

_“You’ve disappointed them again.”_

“I’m gonna go do my homework.” Michael pushed away from the table. 

“Okay, let us know if you need anything.” Mom 1.0 placed a kiss on his cheek before he escaped to the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the hiatus... College y'know?
> 
> Updates will probably be few and far between until December, but I'm doing my best! I don't want to run out of content that's ready to be posted because that's when the writer's block hits! 
> 
> Leave a comment if you want :) I appreciate them more than you could know! Even the negative ones! Thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments thus far! <3 
> 
> See y'all next time!


	8. Chapter 8

An hour later, Michael finally peeled his trembling, sweating body off of the bathroom floor. He loved having his own bathroom for just this reason. He loved having his own floor of the house for just this reason. 

He made sure not to look in the toilet as he flushed the upchucked remains of his dinner and disgusting amount of stomach acid. He’d spent so long dry heaving that at one point he was convinced he was actually going to turn his intestines inside out. It was gross. He was gross. But he felt better now. The pressure in his chest was gone, his stomach no longer felt like it was hooked up to a relentless bike pump, and a quick pass of a toothbrush would get the bile taste out of his mouth. 

He kept his eyes away from the mirror, away from himself, as he replaced the vomit flavour with mint and splashed some cold water on his face. Michael and mirrors didn’t really mix well after the Halloween incident. He’d spent far too long staring at himself that night, the voice in his head refusing to shut up, screaming in time to the pounding bass outside, pointing out every flaw, every reason why Jeremy had ditched him for the cool kids. Sometimes the voice in his head felt like having a squip of his own. But not the ‘helpful’ version; no he had never moved on from the ‘everything about you is terrible’ phase. So yeah. He didn’t really look in the mirror anymore. 

_“You didn’t even eat as much as a toddler and yet you still couldn’t keep it down?”_ there it was, that awful voice. Michael couldn’t even tell who it sounded like. Where had this voice come from? Why wouldn’t it leave him alone? He just shrugged in response. _“What would your friends think of you if they knew what you did when you excused yourself to the bathroom at Pink Berry?”_ Michael felt his face burning. He was tempted to stab himself in the eardrums so he couldn’t hear the voice anymore. _“Or what if they saw you without your hoodie on?”_ What time was it? Eight thirty. Fuck. He couldn’t do anything stupid yet or his moms might know. _“They would hate you.”_

“They already hate me.” Michael whispered back. “They only put up with me because they like Jeremy. And Jeremy only puts up with me out of obligation. He’s guilty about throwing twelve years of friendship down the toilet.” 

_“I won’t argue with you there.”_ The voice cackled. _“It’s just a matter of time. You’ll give up or they will.”_

“They’ll be a car short if they do.” Michael smirked. He found a sick sense of pleasure in the fact that he was useful for something. He was one of two in the group who had a car, and without him they would be two over capacity of Jake’s car. That was another reason they kept him around. To chauffeur. 

_“One of them will get a car soon. You’ll become obsolete.”_

“I know.” Michael sighed and fell onto his bed, pulling his headphones on and pressing ‘shuffle all’ on his music app. Marley popped up first, Jammin’ drowning out the voice. 

Michael was surfing around Twitter, Reddit, and Instagram, catching up on his favourite Warcraft forums and music news, when he came upon a recent Insta post from Rich. It was a picture of him shirtless, showing off that his most recent tattoo (a chest piece) was healing nicely. 

And suddenly there was a dagger twisting in Michael’s guts again. He thought back to Rich and his drunken father. And how Michael had just left him there. 

_“How could you not insist that he come with you?”_ The voice was back, louder than The Cure on full blast. _“You just left him there with a man who you know hurts him. And who wanted you to suck him off. How do you know he’s not doing the same to Rich?”_

“Shut up.” Michael pressed his headphones to his ears, his breath picking up. 

_“How would you feel if that happened to you? If you were being raped and beaten by your parents and your friend knew and didn’t do anything?”_

“Shut up!” 

_“You’re pathetic! You’re a freak! You useless, disgusting, worthless waste of space! YOU’D BE BETTER OF DEAD THAN-!”_

“I SAID SHUT UP!” 

“Michael!” Mom 1.1 grabbed his headphones away and his watery eyes flew open, breath quick and getting caught in his throat. The panic hadn’t fully set in, so when she opened her arms he lurched into her, trying to regain control of his body. “Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She rubbed circles into his back, letting him cry himself out. 

“I’m sorry.” Michael’s arms grasped desperately around his mother. 

“None of that.” She cooed gently. “It’s okay if you’re not okay.” 

Michael shut up after that. He latched onto his mother’s words and the rhythmic circles until his breathing was normal and his tears had run out. 

“Better?” She asked when he’d been quiet for a while. 

“Yeah.” He let go of his mom, she followed suit, allowing him to lean back against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

“What happened?” She reached a hand out and placed it atop his denim clad knee. 

“I saw a picture of Rich.” The story tumbled past his teeth before he fully knew what he was going to say. “He got a new tattoo on his chest, so he was showing it off, and… I saw the scars and… got overwhelmed.”

“He’s okay now.” His mom assured. “I know that was a really scary night, but if Rich can show off his scars and be fine with them, then that’s all that matters, right? You don’t have to be sad for him.” 

“I know.” But even if Michael had been telling the truth, that wouldn’t have been the reason he got overwhelmed. He would be upset over his breakdown and Jeremy calling him a loser. He would be the selfish little bitch he was and feel sorry for himself, not for Rich. 

“Just remember how lucky you all are that everyone was okay in the end.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“Good.” His mom smiled. “Now, do you want me to stay? Or do you need some alone time?” 

“Alone time please.” 

“Of course.” Mom 1.1 stood up from the bed, her soft smile never wavering. “I love you, sweet boy.” 

“Love you too, mom.” And with that she was up the stairs and Michael was alone again. He didn’t mind. Being alone was easier. He could cry by himself and not feel guilty about ruining someone else’s day. 

He just sat there for a while, mind blissfully silent for once. He was shaken from his bliss however when his phone started blipping, notifying him that his group chat was active. He grabbed the device, slipping his headphones back on before opening the squad chat. 

**Pink Berry Baby (9:28pm)** Michael! I don’t know if anyone told you but this Friday we’re going to Menchies! How are you feeling by the way? 

Michael smirked at Brooke’s fro-yo obsession that trumped all. 

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:29pm)** I’m fine, how did we come upon that decision? 

**Short-ass (9:29pm)** we pulled names from jakes hat

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:30pm)** ???

**Broadway Here I Come (9:30pm)** Good explaining Rich ;p we went alphabetically by the name of the person who drew the place. Jeremy drew for you. 

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:30pm)** Lol thanks Christine, that makes much more sense! Thanks Jer

**Tall-ass (9:31pm)** No problemo friendo 

**Chai Chai (9:31pm)** so other than fro-yo are we doing anything this week? 

**Future President (9:32pm)** IDK did you have anything in mind Jenna? 

**Chai Chai (9:32pm)** not really just figured I’d ask

**Prom Queen (9:33pm)** mall? 

**Pink Berry Baby (9:33pm)** Movies? 

**Short-ass (9:33pm)** xbox 

**Broadway Here I Come (9:33pm)** Zoo? 

**Future President (9:33pm)** hiking?

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:33pm)** Jesus Christ that was a lot all at once 

**Tall-ass (9:34pm)** Right? 

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:34pm)** Why don’t we make plans tomorrow at school? 

**Prom Queen (9:35pm)** Sounds good to me. I got homework that needs doing. 

**Antisocial Headphones Kid (9:35pm)** Same, bye guys! <3 

His phone kept pinging away as Michael flipped it over and sat back. He’d never been involved in a group chat before. It was a lot. It was almost as bad as talking to all of them in person could be. When the group got excited it was a lot. Even through text it was a lot. As the messages about classes and extracurriculars kept pinging away, Michael decided to mute the chat for the night. He always kept his ringer on in case something important came up, but important things didn’t usually happen in the chat. And if something did, there were seven other people to deal with it. 

_“Are you done with your pity party yet?”_ The voice came back a little while later, but it wasn’t as harsh as before. Sometimes it was like this, just having a conversation with a rude being. Well not so much a being. A disembodied imaginary friend was a closer description. 

“I don’t know.” Michael sighed back. 

_“Have you not thought to text Rich yet?”_

“Shit.” Michael breathed out loud. That was a thing he should do. He should message Rich and make sure his dad hadn’t done anything stupid. He grabbed his phone again and pulled up Rich’s contact. 

**Tall-ass 2 (9:47pm)** Hey, just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay  

He stared at the phone until he got an answer. Which wasn’t very long after. Rich always had his cell close by. 

**Short-ass (9:48pm)** ya im good he was out cold by 7

**Tall-ass 2 (9:48pm)** Good… I guess… You sure you don’t wanna come over here? 

**Short-ass (9:48pm)** nah im good but thnx i promise if i evr need a place ill call

**Tall-ass 2 (9:49pm)** My door is always open. But on the off chance it’s not, there’s a key taped to the top of the back doorframe ;p 

**Short-ass (9:50pm)** lol noted

**Short-ass (9:50pm)** gtg do an essay now cya tmrw 

**Tall-ass 2 (9:50pm)** night 

“Michael?” He looked up to see both of his mothers lingering at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Hey.” He slipped his headphones off and set his phone down. 

“Are you feeling better now?” Mom 1.1 asked with her gentle, genuine smile. 

“Much.” Michael smiled back. It was kind of true. After talking to his friends for a bit and getting out of his head, he was feeling less like he needed to curl up in a hole and stay there until he died. 

Yeesh… that was a weird thought. 

“Good.” Mom 1.0 tried for that same smile, but hers was much more… it was hard to describe… uncomfortable maybe? She had never been the best when it came to Michael’s outbursts. She hated to admit that there was something wrong with the child she’d birthed. He would never tell her this, but that was one of the reasons he had such a hard time opening up to anyone about anything. For the fear that they would feel guilty or feel sorry for him. “We just wanted to ask you…” 

“Yeah?” He pressed when they were both silent for a moment. 

“Do you need us to reschedule our trip?” Mom 1.0 asked. The two of them had slowly crossed his den and ended up perched on the end of his bed, trapping him in the corner. Good thing he wasn’t really claustrophobic. 

They were worried. They’d seen him declining in the past few months, and especially the last couple of weeks. “No, of course not.” He shook his head with a smile. 

“Are you sure?” Mom 1.1 reached out and collected his hand. “Because there’s another cruise running right after ours so if you need us to move it-”

“Why do you think you need to do that?” He inquired, curious as to what they would have to say. 

His moms were quiet for a moment, contemplating, silently discussing who would begin. 

“We’re worried about you, sweetheart.” Mom 1.0 began as if she was dancing through a laser maze. Careful, calculated. “The panic attacks are getting worse, you haven’t been eating, you look absolutely exhausted…” 

“We just don’t want something to happen and for you to be alone.” Mom 1.1 tacked on. 

“What do you think is going to happen?” Michael felt his shoulders tensing and he took his hand back. 

“Breakdowns, panic attacks, episodes…” Mom 1.0 was referring to the times where he couldn’t even pull himself out of bed to use the bathroom or look at food without gagging. 

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed with Jeremy or had him stay here?” Michael offered, needing his moms to get off his back. He knew what they were insinuating. “You guys don’t need to throw away your trip. You’ve been planning it for months.” 

“Three weeks is a long time for you to stay at Jeremy’s house. Or for him to stay here.” Mom 1.0. Always the practical one. 

“You act as though we don’t spend our summers just alternating which house we sleep at every night.” 

“It’s just-” Michael cut Mom 1.0 off by reaching out and taking one of each of their hands in his own. 

“You guys go. Don’t lose all that money. I’ll be fine, Jeremy will watch over me.” 

“You promise you’ll call him if anything happens?” Mom 1.0 demanded. 

“I promise.” Michael smiled. 

“And you promise you’ll go to your appointments with Dr. Evans?” Mom 1.1 added. 

“I promise.” Michael assured. “You guys deserve to go on your vacation. Don’t let me get in your way.” 

Mom 1.1 initiated the group hug, pulling Michael out from his corner and in between the two of them. 

_“They must have been horrible in a past life.”_

_“Let me have this.”_ Michael latched tightly onto his moms, relishing in the warmth and love he felt. It was actually kind of nice to be hugged when he wasn’t having a breakdown. 

“We just worry, sweetie.” Mom 1.0 piped up in his left ear. “We’re moms, it’s our job.” 

“I know, but take a break from it.” 

“Overseas calling and texting is really expensive, but the ship has Wi-Fi so if you need anything you’ll be able to message us on Facebook.” 

“Okay.” 

“I want you to give us updates on your appointments; if they help and you decide to continue them, book more, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“And we’ll leave you money for groceries.” 

“You act like you’re leaving now.” Michael chuckled, finally releasing his moms and leaning back against the wall again. “You’ve still got two days.” 

“We know.” Mom 1.1 laughed along with him. “We just don’t want to forget anything.” 

“We’ve never left you alone this long.” Mom 1.0 added. 

“I won’t be alone, I’ll have Jeremy.” Michael reminded. “And Mr. Heere. And Christine, Brooke, Chloe, Rich, Jake, and Jenna at that.” It felt so foreign to list off that many names. Especially considering only two of those names knew about his issues. And one of them barely knew anything at all. 

His moms smiled as he rattled off the names of his friends. Since kindergarten Michael had just had Jeremy. Back then he was too shy, and once he developed even the slightest bit of interest in making friends, he’d been pegged as a freak who had two moms. Life hadn’t been easy for Michael, so it was nice that he’d finally found a group. 

“Well, we should get to bed soon.” Mom 1.0 yawned and stood up from the bed. She worked eight to five as an accountant and Mom 1.1 worked eight to four as a lab technician, often having to stay at work until five or six. It was nearing ten thirty, and they were always in bed before eleven at the latest. Always. 

“And so should you.” Mom 1.1 ruffled her son’s mangy hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Love you.” 

“Love you guys too.” Michael watched as they went up his steps, closing the door at the landing, and listened to their footsteps travel to the top floor of the house. 

When their voices could no longer be heard, Michael let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding. They wouldn’t come back down now. They were settling for the night. It was finally safe to shed his hoodie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF I JUST REALIZED I'VE BEEN POSTING THIS STORY WITH NO FORMATTING WOW OKAY SO MOST OF IT PROBABLY HASN'T MADE ANY SENSE EXCUSE ME WHILE I CLEAN IT UP THEN CRAWL IN A HOLE SOMEWHERE


	9. Chapter 9

Michael didn’t sleep. His two hour nap had been enough to give him a second wind apparently, so he just listened to music in the dark until it was time to get up. He really didn’t want to. After the Monday he’d had, Tuesday did not seem appealing. But people needed rides to school, so Michael dragged himself out from under his covers and into the bathroom. 

He was brushing his teeth in the dark when he realised he hadn’t even seen his face yet. It was scabbing over, he could tell by the stiffness, but he had no idea what he looked like. 

_“Uglier than usual?”_ the voice offered. 

“Don’t start.” He told it. 

He took a deep breath, counting down from three before he clicked the light on. It was easy to look at himself at first considering he was blinded by the sudden light after spending the last nine hours in complete darkness. But as his eyes adjusted and Michael forced himself to look in the mirror, he felt like he was going to throw up. 

He didn’t much care about the angry looking patchwork of scabs and bruises that extended from his jawline to his cheekbone. In fact, it distracted from the fact that his eyes were sunken and struggling to holding up the suitcases beneath them. And that his cheeks were looking more and more hollow with each day he was unable to keep anything down. He tried desperately to keep his eyes on his face, but they wandered. As they always did. 

He was skeletal. His skin hung off of his shoulders like a shirt on a coat hanger. He was sure if he took his t-shirt off he would be able to count his ribs. His eyes continued their wandering. Down his chin, past his shoulder, to his right elbow, his Pacman tattoo. His eyes began creeping left… and he slammed them shut. 

_“Look at them.”_ The voice cooed in his ear. _“Look at them.”_

“I don’t want to.” Michael whispered, choking on the sob that he refused to let out. 

_“Then why did you do it? What’s the point if you won’t look at them? You really are pathetic aren’t you?” _

Michael’s eyes opened and he stared. The marred flesh of his left forearm made him feel like he was going to be sick. His scars. Some old, some new, some from the night before when he couldn’t sleep and needed relief but was too tired to drag himself to the backyard to smoke. He swallowed his gag as he took in the dried blood, gaping slits, scabbed over slashes, and wrinkly lines that stared back at him with vengeance. Words and carvings were long lost under the layers of scar tissue, but he remembered each one. Faggot, pathetic, worthless, loner, useless, waste of space, freak, stoner… the only one that was still partially legible was the one that had lead him back to the old habit. 

LOSER 

Written in angry, frantic script on Halloween night. He’d tried to cover it up with fresh scars; if Jeremy ever saw it (not that he intended to show him, but Jeremy was one of the six that knew about his… problem) he’d know exactly why it was there. Michael had never taken any offense to being called a loser until that night. And now it was the one word that almost always sent him into an episode. The word that everyone else in the world used in an attempt to get under his skin. The label he wore with pride when Jeremy was next to him. It had hurt so much coming from Jeremy.

Michael closed his eyes again, forcing the tears not to fall. He wasn’t having a breakdown before school even started. 

The lights went out and he left the bathroom. Michael grabbed the first pair of jeans within reach, tugged his hoodie on, hung his headphones around his neck, grabbed his backpack, and climbed the stairs to make a pot of coffee. 

His moms had already left for work, so Michael had the kitchen to himself as he measured coffee grounds and water and let the machine work its magic. Coffee, water, and slushies were the only things that he could properly consume without fail. He was glad coffee was on the list considering his disgusting lack of sleep. 

While he waited for his glorious morning elixir to be ready, Michael pulled out his phone and turned on some YouTube video that he paid absolutely no attention to. He just watched as his coffee dripped down into the pot for a few minutes before the machine beeped and gave a sigh of steam. Michael grabbed the pot and set it on the counter to cool a bit while he grabbed the reusable Starbucks cup Mom 1.0 had bought at some point and filled it with ice. He splashed some cream into the cup along with a sprinkle of sugar before filling it the rest of the way with caffeine, loving the sound of the ice cubes crackling under the shock of heat. He downed the first cup in a matter of seconds, needing the temporary jolt of energy as soon as humanly possible. While he was fixing a second serving to bring in the car with him, he heard his phone ping with a notification from the group chat. He ignored it until his coffee was made and the lid and straw were attached properly. 

**Short-ass (8:02am)** any1 want anything from 711

**Chai Chai (8:02am) )** Why are you going there this early? 

**Short-ass (8:03am) )** i owe michael shlushies 4 fixin my laptop 

**Chai Chai (8:03am) )** ah I’m good thanks

**Shot-ass (8:07am) )** ill take that as a no from every1 lol

Michael rolled his eyes and shouldered his bag, closing YouTube as he headed out his back door, locking it behind him as he went. He tossed his bag in the back seat and let the album Rich had selected the previous day play as he headed for Jeremy’s place. 

“Hey!” Jeremy’s smile was broad as he hopped in the car. “Feeling better today?” 

“Much.” Michael smiled back, thankful that he was expected to keep his eyes on the road and not look to his best friend in the passenger seat. 

“Does that mean you’re ready to tell me what happened yesterday?” Jeremy didn’t want to push too hard, but Michael always seemed to improve after he spilled his guts. 

Michael sighed and took a breath before deciding it wouldn’t be the worst thing for Jeremy to know. “Miller saw my scars and asked me about them.” 

“He asked you about them?” 

“Well…He told me he saw them and asked if I was okay.” 

“Why the hell…?” Jeremy was livid. Why would someone call attention to something so personal? Something that was clearly so triggering. “I’m sorry, dude.” 

“It’s whatever.” Michael shrugged. “I’m skipping his class today, though.” He probably wouldn’t be able to show his face in that room until next week. 

“Can’t blame you.” Jeremy slumped into his seat, suddenly glad he’d run headlong into the teacher the previous day. “You coming to comp sci?” 

“Yeah, Sullivan probably doesn’t even remember me running out of the room.” Michael laughed. 

“That’s fair.” Jeremy laughed along with his friend. “He caught me in the hall like right after and just wanted to confront me about how poorly I did on the test.” 

“Geez…” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me go after you until I submitted.” 

“Did you leave stuff blank?” Michael’s heart sank. Jeremy had failed the test because of him. 

“Don’t you dare be feeling bad about that.” Jeremy warned with a smirk. “You’re way more important than some grade.” 

“Well if you failed-” 

“I won’t care.” Jeremy had made a promise to himself that he was going to stop Michael’s self-deprecation. Well, as much as he could anyway. “As I said, you’re way more important than a grade.” 

“But-”

“Would you rather I had left you there alone?” 

“No…” Michael sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“No reason to be.” 

“Let me rephrase, thank you.” 

“Better.” Jeremy smiled as Michael pulled into his usual spot. “You’re welcome.” 

“Well, Rich has a slushie with my name on it.” Michael threw on his most convincing fake smile, actually feeling mild excitement at the prospect of a cherry slushie for breakfast. 

“Let’s go then! This is important business!” 

“The most important!”

The two laughed as they hopped out of the car and headed for the door. Their joy was short-lived however, as they ran into Dustin Kropp and three of his lackeys as soon as they turned into the hallway. 

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.” Dustin snapped in Michael’s face a second after they’d bounced off of each other. “What the fuck is wrong with your face?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Michael glared back, instinctively putting himself between the cluster of football players and Jeremy. 

“Michael…” Jeremy hoped his friend would just back down, but he’d never been one to let shit like this slide. 

“You think you have infinite protection now that you’re in tight with Dillinger huh?” Dustin closed the space between him and Michael, but Michael refused to back up. He stood his ground, staring up with an unwavering scowl. 

“Nah, I just know you’re too chicken shit to do anything.” 

“Michael, let’s just go.” Jeremy grabbed for his friend’s elbow, but Michael shrugged out of his grip. 

“You think you’re just gonna walk away without apologizing for carelessly walking into me and then insulting me?” Dustin’s sheep took their cue, one appearing behind Jeremy in a second, meaty hands fully encasing his upper arms, the other two going after Michael. 

“Oh god…” Jeremy sighed under his breath. How did they always find themselves in these messes? Especially now that they were, as Dustin put it, ‘tight’ with the captain of the football team. 

Jeremy watched helplessly as Michael’s bag was ripped off his shoulders and tossed across the hall, and he was thrown up against the wall, one linebacker pinning each arm. Michael held back a hiss as fingers dug into healing skin. He hoped none of his cuts were reopening. He didn’t need bloodstains on his favourite hoodie. 

“Now. Are you going to apologize?” Dustin sneered in Michael’s face. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Goddammit Michael.” Jeremy struggled against the receiver holding his arms behind his back, but he was no match for the athlete. 

“Jer, I’m not apologizing to this asshole.” 

“Wrong answer.” A sadistic grin spread across Dustin’s face and suddenly there was a fist shoved up under his rib cage. All of Michael’s breath left him, and he longed to double over to compensate for the pain, but he was held fast against the wall, gasping for air. 

“Leave him alone!” Jeremy’s struggles increased, but still he was nowhere near breaking free. 

“It’ll be your turn soon enough.” Dustin mused as he drove his fist into Michael’s stomach again, chuckling at the squeak the nerd let out. And then Dustin’s fingers were on Michael’s jaw, forcing him to look up, digging into bruises and scabs that didn’t need to be irritated. “I don’t care that you’re in with the popular kids now. You’re still the pathetic loser who cried in the bathroom for two hours at a party he wasn’t invited to. You should have died in that fire.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Kropp?” Jeremy had never been so relieved to hear Jake’s booming voice in his life. The hands released both boys. Jeremy stumbled forward after straining for so long, and Michael found himself sliding down the wall, trying to catch his breath. Jeremy dropped down to his friend’s side, shooting glares all around. 

“Just chatting with my pals.” Dustin rolled his eyes. 

“Doesn’t look like a friendly chat to me.” As much as Dustin towered over Michael and Jeremy, Jake was still slightly taller, and carried himself with more assuredness, making him seem more intimidating. “Mess with them one more time and you’re off the team. All of you.” 

“Whatever you say, captain.” Dustin turned on his heel and waltzed down the hall, the nameless, wordless trio on his heels. 

“You guys okay?” Jake took a knee as well to assess the damage. 

“I’m fine, they went after Michael.” Jeremy explained. 

“Just got the… wind knocked… out of me…” Michael explained as he tried to regain control of his lungs. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m sorry, man.” Jake held out a hand and Michael gladly took the assistance in getting back to his feet. “The guys know my friends are off limits, I don’t know what their deal is.” 

“They’re just pissed… you like us more… than them” Michael smirked at Jake’s laugh as Jeremy scooped Michael’s backpack up off the floor. 

“I don’t know if a truer statement has ever been stated.” Jake agreed, throwing an arm around each Michael and Jeremy as they headed for the cafeteria. “Seriously though, if any of them ever mess with you again, let me know.” 

“We will.” Jeremy promised and Michael nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Haha I love it when I can use actual events that have happened to me in my writing.</strike> Hope y'all enjoy the angst, I know I love writing it :) Thanks for reading, see you next time!


	10. Chapter 10

Michael shivered as he took another drink from the half melted cherry slush, eyes closed, Bjork blasting in his ears, tree bark digging into his back. He’d wandered into the centre of the forest behind the school, to a small clearing where stoners tended to hang out on their lunch breaks, Michael included on occasion. However, he’d never been able to speak to any of the others who he would run into in the woods. In fact, he would often wander until he found a different spot if his usual space was occupied. But if other people showed up he couldn’t stop them from joining/ignoring him. 

He felt the tension in his body fully release as he took the last drag of his joint, held it, and let it out slow. He felt so much better. When he got high, he could never seem to figure out why he hated life so much when he was sober. What was the point of being stressed all the time? What was the point of hacking up his skin as a way to cope with the non-stop emotional turmoil? What was the point of any of it? 

Michael would have loved to sit in the woods and smoke all day, even with the persistent chill of the New Jersey ‘spring,’ but he couldn’t let himself go too far at school. Not if he planned on actually going to any of his classes, which he did considering he’d missed most of the previous day. 

“Who cares?” He pondered. “I do.” He snapped back at himself. “Whoops…” Maybe he’d gone a little further than he’d intended. He pulled out his phone and opened his messages with Jeremy. 

**Player 1 (9:26am) )** might not be in comp sci

**Player 2 (9:26am) )** Did you get too high? ;p 

**Player 1 (9:27am) )** maybe 

Michael giggled at how well Jeremy knew him. 

**Player 2 (9:27am) )** You at your usual spot? 

**Player 1 (9:28am) )** ye

**Player 2 (9:28am) )** I’ll come visit  

Michael sighed and relaxed into his tree, wishing he could feel like this all the time. Relaxed, light, almost… happy? Yeah. Happy sounded like it could be right. It sucked that his moms were so against drugs that they thought even medicinal marijuana was ‘too risky.’ What he would be risking by getting a prescription, Michael did not know, but it meant he had to obtain his weed illegally. The guy from Spencer’s didn’t only hook him up with nineties soft drinks, there was always a couple of grams stowed away along with his vintage goodies, usually hidden in an old cassette case. 

“Hey.” Jeremy startled Michael out of his thoughts, collapsing down to the ground in front of Michael. 

“Hey.” Michael strung his headphones around his neck, letting David Bowie flitter out to the forest. 

“Feeling better?” 

“When was the last time you didn’t ask me that?” Michael mused. 

“Two days ago.” Jeremy chuckled. “Seriously though, Dustin’s punches hurt.” 

“Yeah.” Michael sighed, he’d inspected his torso earlier, finding an impressive near-black bruise had already settled below his ribcage. He’d always bruised easily so this wasn’t really surprising, but it was still unsettling. “I’m fine though. Can’t feel a thing.” 

“Good.” Jeremy smirked. “Have you eaten anything today?” 

Michael held up his empty coffee cup and nearly finished slushie in response. 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Why?” Michael countered. “There’s like seven hundred calories in this thing alone.” He took another sip of his beloved beverage. 

“Yeah, but that’s not food.” Jeremy explained. “When’s the last time you ate actual food that you had to chew?” 

“Last night.” Michael shrugged. He wasn’t lying, he had eaten some semblance of dinner. Jeremy hadn’t asked when he’d last kept an entire meal down. Though, Jeremy didn’t know about Michael’s bulimic tendencies. But it wasn’t really bulimia right? He wasn’t afraid of gaining weight, he just couldn’t keep food in his stomach. He didn’t have an eating disorder, he just couldn’t eat properly. Right? 

“Really?” 

“Ask my moms.” 

“If I text them right now and ask if you ate last night, they’ll say yes?” 

“Uh-huh.” Michael nodded. “Also, you see me eat frozen yogurt every Friday.” 

“Yeah, I know. But again, real food.” 

“What counts as real food?” Michael pondered. “Technically anything you can digest is ‘real food,’ right?” 

“Stuff that doesn’t increase your blood sugar to dangerous levels and rot your teeth out as you’re drinking it.” 

“Okay mom.” 

“I’m just worried about you.” 

“Again, okay mom.” 

“Stop.” Jeremy smiled. It was nice to see Michael happy. Or whatever this was. 

“Sorry mom.” 

“Goddammit!” Jeremy punched Michael lightly in the arm as they both doubled over in a giggle fit. “Let me be concerned for you.” 

“But there’s nothing to be concerned about.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Well I’m offended.” Michael pouted. “I’m a very trustworthy person.” 

“I know you are.” 

“Then trust me when I tell you I’m fine.” 

“Okay but let me ask you this: are you fine today or fine in general?” 

“Today.” Michael admitted. “I was fine when I woke up.” He lied. “I just wanted to make sure I stayed fine.” 

Jeremy smiled softly. “Just make sure you tell me when you’re not fine so I can help, okay?” 

“Okay.” Michael smiled back, draining the last bit of his slushie as the bell rang for second period. “Damn, I miss it already.” He cradled the empty plastic cup to his chest. 

“Are you still planning on skipping?” 

“Nah, I’m not as bad as I thought.” 

“Well let’s get our asses in gear then.” Jeremy offered a hand and dragged Michael to his feet, leading the way out of the woods and into the school. 

Sullivan gave them a work period and Michael had already finished the project, so he just surfed around his social media while Jeremy worked, answering the many questions his friend had. At one point he figured he should let his moms know they would be getting an absence call later in the day. 

**Michael (10:17am) ** Hey, I accidentally fell back asleep after my alarm went off this morning so I missed first, but I’m at school now. Just wanted to let you know

**Mom v 1.1 (10:23am) ** Sweetheart you could have just stayed home! After the day you had yesterday you’re probably exhausted.

**Michael (10:23am) ** I’m fine, just needed that extra hour. Plus, I only made it to English and part of comp sci yesterday. I kind of need to go to class today

**Mom v 1.1 (10:26am) ** Okay, thanks for letting me know. Try to go to bed early tonight? 

**Michael (10:26am) ** Depends on the homework situation ;p 

**Mom v 1.1 (10:30am) ** Fair enough. Try to have a good day, love you <3 

**Michael (10:30am) ** Love you too

**Mom v 1.1 (10:31am) ** Oh! I told you your appointment with Dr. Evans is at 4:30 tonight, right?

**Michael (10:31am) ** You did now 

**Mom v 1.1 (10:33am)** lol well good. We’ll see you after that. 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

The rest of the school day was uneventful. Michael listened to music and pretended to nap on the table during lunch, half paid attention to a lesson about serial killers in psych while he and Rich texted each other from a few desks away, and watched Jeremy sift through photos of their friends to find good ones for their current project in communications. 

“Need a ride?” Michael asked Jeremy as they shouldered their bags and rose with the rest of their class at the end of the day. 

“I’m heading to Christine’s place to run lines, it’s kind of out of the way for you.” Jeremy shrugged. 

“I can give you guys a lift, I have to be over that way anyway.” 

“What do you have to be on that side of town for?” Jeremy pondered as he pulled out his phone and sent Christine a text. 

“I have an appointment.” 

“Appointment?” Jeremy’s brows furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “I’m going to see my old shrink.” 

“That’s good!” A genuine smile spread across Jeremy’s face. 

“Is it?” Michael’s shoulders slumped. He felt like even more of a freak. What high school junior had a shrink? And an old one he hadn’t seen in over a year at that. 

“Yes, it is.” Jeremy assured, a gentle hand resting on Michael’s shoulder. “You’re getting help, that’s good.” 

“I guess.” Michael shrugged out from under Jeremy’s hand as they reached his car and tossed their bags in the back. “I don’t know.” 

“What do you not know about?” Jeremy joined Michael in leaning against the car while they waited for Christine. 

“How I feel about it?” Michael mused, not totally sure himself. “I’m nervous about going back. It’s like admitting I’m not okay again.” 

“But it’s also a step towards being more okay.” Jeremy offered. 

“Yeah… I just… I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“I may not, but I’m always down to listen.” 

“Thanks Jer.” 

“Anytime buddy. Let me know when you figure out what you’re feeling and we’ll finally finish level ten of Apocalypse of the Damned?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Hey boys!” Christine’s cheerful voice rang out just as their conversation lulled and they turned to see her bouncing through the parking lot. 

“Hey love.” Jeremy’s arm snaked around her shoulders as soon as he was close enough. 

“How are you feeling today, Michael?” Christine directed her attention toward him as she leaned into Jeremy with a content smile. They were the cutest couple. 

“Better.” Michael smirked. “Thanks for yesterday, by the way.” Christine had been running late that morning so she had missed their pre first period get together, and Michael had already been ‘asleep’ on the table when she’d finally gotten away from the theatre and to the cafeteria at lunch, so they hadn’t talked at all since the group chat the night before. 

“No problem.” Her smile was soft but enthusiastic. 

“Well, shall we head out?” Michael shoved off his car and hopped in, Jeremy claiming shotgun, Christine sliding in the back with the small mountain of schoolbags. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind driving?” Christine piped up as she buckled in. “I live in the complete opposite direction as you.” 

“It’s cool, I like driving.” Michael smiled in the rear-view as he reversed out of his spot. “And spending time with my favouwite pewson and his favouwite pewson.” Michael teased, throwing a cheeky grin Jeremy’s way. 

“Don’t you guilt me!” Jeremy would have punched Michael had he not been operating a motor vehicle that contained the people he cared about most in the world. “We’ve been over this! Best friend favourite and girlfriend favourite are two very different things!” 

“And which one of those titles is higher on the favouwite scale?” 

“Neither! You’re tied!” Jeremy threw his arms above his head, hands connecting with the roof of the car. 

“So if we texted you at the exact same time asking you to hang out, which one would you choose?” 

Jeremy flinched at that question and Christine doubled over in a giggle fit at his panicked expression. 

“I uh I mean well I… goddammit Michael! I can’t choose between you two!” 

Christine clicked her tongue at that response, reeling in her giggles to join in on the teasing. “Well I would have hoped you would place twelve years of friendship above just a few months of us being together. I didn’t think you were that kind of a guy, Jeremy Heere.” 

“Was that a trick question? Are you two conspiring against me?” 

“Of course we are!” Michael exclaimed. “I’m your best friend, Christine is my best friend’s girlfriend, I’m Christine’s boyfriend’s best friend, as well as her gay sidekick. Naturally all we do is conspire about how to torment you and make you look ridiculous, isn’t that right Christine?” 

“I couldn’t have recited it more eloquently if I’d been reading it directly from a script.” She winked at Michael in the rear-view. 

“I swear you two are not allowed to talk to each other anymore.” Jeremy chuckled, his smile broadening when he caught the genuine glint of joy in Michael’s eyes. He hadn’t seen that in so long. 

“But I need a gay sidekick!” Christine protested. “Who’s nails will I paint? Who will I obsess over hot Broadway actors with? Unless you’re offering to fill the spot.” 

“On second thought you guys need to talk more!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Christine smirked as Michael pulled into her driveway. “Since you’re here anyway Michael, do you want to come in and hang for a bit?” 

“Weren’t you guys going to run lines?” 

“Yeah, but we have all evening to do that.” Christine shrugged. “Come on, I have cats and Oreos!” 

Michael glanced at the clock, three thirty on the dot. It would take him about five minutes to get to Dr. Evans’ office from Christine’s house, and he liked being there about ten minutes early, and there really wasn’t much to do on this side of town… “Sure. I can’t stay long though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are in sight! I don't want to promise that I'll be posting more often over the Christmas break because work will be picking up, but it is a possibility. Anyways, enjoy yourselves some fluff :D


	11. Chapter 11

It was kind of nice to hang out with just Jeremy and Christine. Well, and her two adorable cats who decided to claim Michael as their bed as soon as the trio plopped down on the carpeted floor of Christine’s bedroom. She had an odd mix of posters that showcased Broadway actors as well as philosophers and psychologists littered about her multicoloured walls. Each one was painted a different colour, (one blue, one green, one purple, one orange) and she had a vanity with lights lining the mirror like you would see in a dressing room. Her bed had a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy and Shakespeare along one side, and storage underneath. 

“Well, they like you.” Christine giggled at the cats sniffing curiously around Michael. “That’s Laertes,” she pointed to the brown and black striped tabby, “and that one’s Aristotle.” The calico climbed into Michael’s lap, purring like a motorboat as his fingers ran over her soft fur. 

“Aristotle?” 

“The philosopher.” 

“I know.” Michael chuckled, trying not to disturb the ball of fur in his lap. “It’s cute.” 

“Thanks.” Christine grinned as she opened one of her under-the-bed drawers and pulled out a pack of Oreos. 

For the next forty-five minutes they just lazed around, both cats making their way into Michael’s lap as they chatted about school and snacked on chocolate sandwich cookies. Michael managed to choke two down before he refused any more. Christine didn’t acknowledge it, but Jeremy eyed him with concern. 

Before Michael knew it, it was time for him to leave. And for once, he didn’t want to abandon a social situation. He was enjoying himself. He had purring cats in his lap, a best friend and a straight sidekick who were all treating him like a normal person. It was nice. But if he missed his appointment… yeah he wasn’t going to do that. 

“Well, I should get going.” Michael sighed, not wanting to move out from under the sleeping kitties. 

“Already?” Christine’s face dropped. 

“Yeah, I have to meet up with my mom. She’s getting a new phone and she’ll get conned into overpaying for stuff she doesn’t need if I don’t go with her.” 

“This is true.” Jeremy offered. “Both of them are very susceptible to charming salespeople.” 

“They certainly are.” Michael poked the cats to see if they would move on their own, but they simply readjusted. 

“Here.” Christine giggled as she lifted Aristotle off of Michael and Jeremy grabbed Laertes. “And you look like a sheep.” Michael looked down at his jeans, finding them coated in a thick layer of shed fur. “I’ll go grab you a lint brush.” And she was off. 

“You okay?” Jeremy asked, seeing Michael’s glazed over expression. 

“Yeah.” He wasn’t really lying. “I just don’t wanna go to this thing.” 

“It might help.” 

“I know.” 

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I will.” Probably not. 

“Here.” Christine came rushing back into the room, lint brush in hand. 

“Thanks.” Michael got most of the cat fur off of him before saying a final goodbye to his friends and heading to his appointment. 

It was four fifteen when he pulled into the parking lot, so he gave himself five minutes to relax in his car. 

“You can do this.” He whispered as the clock switched to four nineteen. “You’ve done it a million times. Do it again.” 

Michael found himself trudging up the stairs to the third floor of the office where the psychologists…? psychiatrists…? Fuck it. The shrinks. He was trudging up the stairs to the shrinks. The office also held a pharmacy, a pediatric unit, and a respiratory clinic. Jack of all trades, he supposed. If a building could be deemed a ‘jack.’ 

Michael pushed the heavy wooden door that would lead him to the waiting room he so detested. It was too bright and always filled with too many people. Some of them would try to talk to him even if he had his headphones on, and some of them would talk through him to something that wasn’t there. He would just kept his head down and his music at a level that would allow him to hear his name being called by a nurse. 

The waiting room was busy. Michael guessed that four thirty on a Tuesday was a popular time to see a shrink, and made a mental note to not have another appointment at this time. He checked in with the receptionist (who somehow still remembered him more than a year later), plopped himself in a chair nearest the hallway where the offices were, slipped his headphones on, and got started on the questionnaire he’d practically memorized. 

**Rate on a scale of one to five (one being never, five being almost always) the following as you’ve experienced in the past two months: **

1\. **Trouble falling asleep or staying asleep, or sleeping too much** (5)

2\. **Being irritable, on edge, easily startled, or moody** (3)

3\. **Feeling tired and lacking energy** (5)

4\. **Loss of appetite or over eating** (5)

5\. **Lack of interest in activities you usually enjoy** (4)

6\. **Lack of focus in school or work** (3)

7\. **Feeling like a failure or disappointment to your family or friends** (4)

8\. **Feeling hopeless, lost, or numb** (4)

9\. **Feeling as though you’d be better off dead or hurting yourself** (5)

“Michael?” He had just finished marking down his final five when a nurse called his name. He left his headphones on as she led him down the hall to the last door on the left and informed him Dr. Evans would be back in a minute and to make himself comfortable. He dropped his questionnaire on her desk and sank into the armchair he had always favoured. 

“Long time no see.” Dr. Evans, a petite, completely average looking brunette slipped through the door a few minutes later, prompting Michael to finally drop his headphones around his neck. 

“Hey.” He tried for a smirk. 

“How have you been?” Dr. Evans placed herself in her desk chair and grabbed Michael’s sheets off of her desk, scanning them as she waited for a response. 

“Well I’m here, so what does that tell you?” He liked Dr. Evans, he really did, he just didn’t like the concept of therapy. She placed the papers aside and gave Michael her full attention. 

“What happened?” She seemed to finally notice the wreckage of Michael’s face. 

“I had a panic attack at school yesterday and faceplanted in the parking lot.” 

“Ouch.” 

Michael shrugged. 

“What caused it?” 

He sighed. “One of my teachers asked me about my scars. I was already having a bad day so it just set me off.” 

“I see.” She nodded. “When she called to book you in your mother mentioned that your panic attacks have been getting worse?” 

“More frequent.” Michael agreed. “At least five or six a month since October.” It was a vast underestimation, but the phrase ‘at least’ made him feel like he wasn’t lying. 

“What happened in October?” 

“My best and only friend ditched me.” 

“You and Jeremy had a falling out?” 

“Kind of?” Michael wasn’t sure how to explain the situation without getting locked in a padded room. “He got the opportunity to be with the popular crowd and took it, which meant I got left behind. But he came back for me and now we’re friends and again and we have more friends. But I was alone for a while. I spiralled and haven’t really… un-spiralled yet.” 

“Have you been confiding in anyone?” 

“I talk to Jeremy sometimes.” Michael shrugged. “I’ll be talking to you. And Jeremy’s girlfriend kind of knows some of what’s going on, but not a lot.” 

“What about your moms?” 

“One of them is pretty okay to talk to.” Michael sighed, thinking back to the previous night when he had sobbed into her shoulder for far too long. “But I don’t really find myself approaching her very often. She comes to me first more often than not. It’s hard to open up.” 

“And that’s what we’re working on, right?” 

“Trying to.” 

“So you say one of your moms is approachable, why aren’t both? Are they both not supportive?” 

“They’re both very supportive and loving.” Michael nodded after some consideration. “It’s just that… It’s hard for her to accept that there’s something wrong with me. Which I can’t really blame her for considering it’s hard for me to accept that there’s something wrong with me. I feel like she gets uncomfortable anytime my mental health gets brought up. And she’s less patient about it. I don’t know… it’s not that she’s… she just doesn’t know how to handle me when I’m at a low point. Which is fair.” 

“I see.” Dr. Evans nodded, making a note. “I might make your mothers aware of the family counsellor we house here. You all might benefit from seeing him. Is that something you’d be open to?”

“Maybe.” Michael shrugged. 

“Consider it.” Dr. Evans gave an encouraging smile. “How’s school been?” 

“Fine.” Michael sighed. 

“No slipping grades?” 

“No, I’m still in the nineties in all my classes. It helps that my classes are easy this semester.” 

“What classes would those be?” 

“English, computer science, intro to psychology, and communications tech.” 

“Doesn’t sound all that easy to me.” 

“They all just kind of click.” 

“That’s good.” Dr. Evans made another note. Michael found this session was ending up quite a bit like his first ever meeting with Dr. Evans. She jumped around a lot until she found something she could pick at and delve into. He didn’t mind; when the floor was open to him he often found himself drawing blanks. “What have you been doing in your free time recently?” 

“Listening to music.” Michael thought back to what he’d done in the past few weeks. Not a lot. “Jeremy comes over sometimes and we play videogames. Other than that not much.” 

“You don’t write anymore?” Dr. Evans seemed to think she found another point of interest. “You were always writing when we first met.” 

“Yeah…” Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened that particular folder on his laptop. “I could never finish any of the work I started.” 

“Why’s that?” Dr. Evans pressed after a moment of silence. 

“I would just lose interest after a while.” Michael pondered. “I would start a project and get completely consumed by it for a few weeks, but then I’d hit a block and nothing I came up with was good enough. So I’d abandon that project and start a new one. Eventually I just gave up because I had so many unfinished works I could never go back to.” 

“Why do you think you would hit a block?” 

“I think…” Michael searched for a way to say what he was thinking without sounding like the angsty teen he knew he was. “When I started a project I would base it around how I was feeling in the moment. Once I had moved on and felt different it just wouldn’t make sense anymore, which is why I would start a new work.” 

“I see.” Dr. Evans. Nodded and took a note. “Michael, I want you to try something for me.” 

“Okay…?” 

“These projects you’d start, they were meant to be novel length?” 

“Mostly.” Michael agreed. Some of his documents were upwards of three hundred pages and were nowhere near a climax or resolution. 

“I want you to try writing again. You seemed to really love it.” She smiled, recalling a time when Michael had zoned out and talked about a sci-fi piece he’s been working on that was based in a parallel universe. He had been so engrossed by his own ideas that he’d chattered on for fifteen minutes. “But I want you to try a short story. No more than five pages. You don’t have to share it with anyone if you don’t want to, I just want you to try it.” 

“May I ask what this is supposed to accomplish?” Michael inquired, genuinely curious about Dr. Evans’ homework assignment. 

“It frustrates you that none of your stories have an ending, right?” Michael nodded. “Well I think you’re having trouble getting there because you’re taking on these massive works. If you take on something smaller, you’ll get to the ending. You’ll have a work with a resolution.”

“So it’s like setting short term goals.” Michael drew the comparison immediately. 

“Exactly.” She nodded, glad he was catching on. “A short story, then a couple chapters, then a novel, then a series. Steps that take you in that direction. Towards a resolution.” 

“Makes sense.” Michael nodded. “I’ll try.” He promised. 

“That’s all I ask.” She glanced at the clock, knowing full well what time it was. “I’m sorry to say our time is up, I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is nuts and I haven't finished Christmas shopping yet but who cares! I've been writing up a storm in my free time (here and elsewhere) and loving every second of it :D hope y'all enjoy some mundane stuff, more angst coming soon. Very soon. (Insert maniacal laugh here)


	12. Chapter 12

“How was your appointment?” Mom 1.0 asked as Michael slipped in the back door. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, moving towards the basement steps. 

“Dinner’s ready.” She called after him. 

“Okay.” He called back, stomach churning at the thought of food. He tossed his backpack on his bed and turned on his heel to make the trek back up to his mothers. 

_“You’re not even going to look?”_

“Fuck off.” He whispered at the voice as he replaced his headphones around his neck. “They look the same as they did this morning.” And with that he climbed the stairs, dreading what was awaiting him at the top. 

“Where’s mom?” He asked as he slid into his seat. There was a plate of shepherd’s pie in front of him, as well as her, but the third seat at the table was bare. 

“She has a migraine.” Mom 1.0 explained as she dug into her dinner. “She’s laying down upstairs.” 

Michael nodded and picked up his fork, poking at his meal for a moment before attempting a bite. 

“So how was school?” Mom 1.0 asked once Michael had choked down his first mouthful. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, realising that he had given the exact same response not five minutes earlier in regards to his appointment. Predictable. “I slept through English, but got there in time for comp sci, which was just a work period, then psych was a lesson, and comms was also work.” 

“Sound like a productive day.” 

“I guess.” 

“And your appointment went well?” She reiterated. She liked to pry the details out of him, but didn’t know how to navigate him to do so effectively. Mom 1.1 was much better at it, and got him to break down his barriers much more often. 

Michael sighed and tried to open up, but it was just so difficult. “Yeah, we talked about pretty much everything since I haven’t seen her in so long. Next one will be more focussed, I think.” 

“That’s good.” She mused with a small smile. 

“How was work?” He changed topics, needing the attention to be away from him. 

“Not the best.” She admitted. “Someone on my team ran some numbers wrong so we all had to scramble to get them fixed before the client sued the company. That and I’m picking up slack for someone who quit with no notice yesterday. It’s a busy time with tax season coming up.” 

“I bet.” Michael nodded. He could never be an accountant. Too tedious. 

They lapsed into silence after that. Silence that would have been comfortable had Michael not felt the burning eyes of his mother on the top of his head for the entire meal. He forced a quarter of the vomit-looking slop down his throat before that nausea began poking under his chin. 

“Come on now.” His mom gave him that stern but concerned look as he put his fork down. She was working through her second portion, and was clearly very unsatisfied with how little her son had consumed. 

“I’m full.” He mumbled, shoving the plate a couple inches away from him. 

“Michael you hardly ate anything.” She pressed. She’d even made a point to give him half of what she would deem a serving in hopes that he would clean his plate. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I can’t help it.” 

“Can you just try?” She sounded like she was trying to cover up exasperation. “Just a bit more.” 

Michael took a deep breath and looked down at his plate, immediately feeling the pressure building in his abdomen. He shook his head. 

“Fine.” She sighed. 

“I’m sorry.” He stood up from the table and cleared his dish, 

“Don’t apologize.” She assured, rising to meet him before he escaped to his cave. “I just worry is all.” 

“I know.” Michael wrapped his arms around his mom and she followed suit. 

“I love you.” She planted a kiss on the top of his head as he slithered out of her grip. 

“Love you too.” He forced a smirk before turning on his heel and heading down to his room. He collapsed on his bed, trying to ignore the persistent urge to gag as he blasted Marley in his headphones. He’d already disappointed his mom by not eating enough, he didn’t need to go and throw it all up. He felt guilty enough about the pitiful stare he’d gotten when he put his plate in the dishwasher. She’d already had a shit day and he’d made it shittier. 

_“Just like you always do.”_

“I know.” 

Michael just stared at the ceiling, focussing on the melodies coming through his headphones, trying to make his mind go blank. Eventually, the nausea passed and he was able to breathe again without the fear of needing to sprint to the bathroom. He still laid there, listening to the voice in his head berate and hate on him through the lyrics of Bowie. 

After what could have been minutes or hours of just existing in his bedroom, Michael’s phone buzzed next to him. He grabbed it and saw a notification from Jeremy. 

**Player 2 (9:02pm)** How’d it go? 

Michael sighed, debating whether or not he could ignore the message and tell some story about falling asleep early due to exhaustion. That probably wouldn’t fly with Jeremy. So he typed back a response, deleting and rewriting a few times before he hit send. 

**Player 1 (9:05pm)** Okay. Idk how much it’ll help, but no harm in trying I guess. 

**Player 2 (9:05pm) ** So long as it’s not making anything worse, right? 

**Player 1 (9:06pm) ** Yeah 

**Player 2 (9:06pm) ** You have plans after school tomorrow? We haven’t hung out in forever. Just the two of us. 

Michael smiled. It had been a few weeks since just him and Jeremy had hung out like old times. He missed it. Sure, it was kind of nice to have a group of people that tolerated him, but hanging out with seven other people on a semi-regular basis was exhausting. 

**Player 1 (9:06pm) ** Not as far as I know, what did you have in mind? 

**Player 2 (9:07pm) ** AOTD? Level 10? 

**Player 1 (9:08pm) ** It’s a date 

**Player 2 (9:08pm) ** Don’t tell Christine I’m cheating on her ;p 

**Player 1 (9:10pm) ** But I’m her gay sidekick! How do I not tell her that her boyfriend is cheating on her? But wait… I’m also the mistress so I don’t want to get caught… INNER TURMOIL 

**Player 2 (9:11pm) ** OML you crack me up buddy XD 

**Player 1 (9:11pm) ** It’s what I’m here for

**Player 2 (9:12pm) ** Whelp, I gotta shower and finish some calc stuff, see you tomorrow! 

**Player 1 (9:13pm) ** Niiight <3

**Player 2 (9:13pm) ** Niiiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhhtttttt <3 <3 <3 

**Player 1 (9:14pm) ** supererogator 

**Player 2 (9:14pm) ** I don’t think that’s a word

**Player 1 (9:14pm) ** I know for a fact that it is not a word but there was not a one word response to inform you that you are supererogatory 

**Player 2 (9:15pm) ** You know I am ;p 

**Player 1 (9:15pm) ** Okay, you go shower now. See ya tomorrow! <3 

**Player 2 (9:15pm) ** byyee 

Michael dropped his phone on his chest and found himself smiling. It was nice to have a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around his mental or physical health. He was hoping that Jeremy would keep it that way for their videogame session the next day. Just normal, fun times like they used to have before Michael had to go and fuck it all up with his chemical imbalances and self-hatred. 

“Michael?” he jumped at mom 1.0’s voice cutting through his music. 

“Hey.” He sat up and pulled his headphones off so he could hear her. 

“Tea?” She offered, holding out his favourite rainbow striped mug as she perched on the edge of his bed. 

“Thanks.” He accepted the beverage, inhaling the fresh smell of peppermint as the steam swirled below his nose. “What’s up?” He noticed his mother’s tight grip around her own mug, and immediately felt uneasy. What did she want to talk about? 

“Michael…” She sighed, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yes…?” He pressed before taking a sip of his tea, relishing the burn it left in his throat. It was the perfect temperature: mildly scalding, just hot enough to sting but not so much so that it was painful. There was silence for a moment, until his mother finally took a breath and blurted her question out. 

“Have you been hurting yourself again?” 

Michael almost dropped his mug, but somehow kept his legs safe from the molten liquid. “What?” he snapped, forcing his expression to remain neutral, if not a tad annoyed. He’d been hiding it well, hadn’t he? He never wore short sleeves or showered unless he knew his moms were asleep or out of the house. He made conscious efforts not to itch at his arm, even when the scabs were at their thickest and all he wanted was to rake his nails over them until they were all gone. He always cleaned up the blood, always. How had she figured it out? “No, of course not, why would you ask me that?” Fuck. He’d been having a good day. Aside from Dustin trying to rearrange his internal organs that is. 

“I just…” His mom sighed again, clearly holding back tears. She was starting to realise shouldn’t have confronted him without her wife. “You’re acting like you did when you were.” 

“Well I’m not.” Michael was proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. 

“You haven’t taken your hoodie off in weeks.” 

“It’s still cold out.” He countered. 

“You’re not eating or sleeping.” 

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it.” 

“Please, Michael I’m just worried about you.” His mother was getting agitated now. He could see it. Her shoulders were nearly as tense as his, and her mouth was a thin, tight line. “Show me.”

“Why should I?” It was a dead giveaway that he was lying. 

“Michael…” 

“Don’t you trust me?” He begged. Anything but rolling up his sleeves. Anything but that. 

“If you’re not doing it then you should be fine to show me.” She was working towards anger now, and Michael was getting to the same place. 

“I shouldn’t have to if you trust me.” Every muscle in his body tensed like a rubber band stretched to its limits, about to snap.

“Why don’t you want to show me?” 

“Because I don’t like looking at them.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He hated seeing his scars, old and new. 

“Michael.” Her tone was harsh and commanding, which just sent Michael into a deeper state of defiance. 

“Mother.” He shot back. 

“Are you going to make me do it myself?” 

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?” 

“Of course I do but-”

“Then get off my goddamn back!” 

“Do not speak to me like that!” 

“Then don’t piss me off!” 

“Michael Mell I am your mother. I will not tolerate this behaviour.” Her voice was low and venomous, unlike he’d ever heard it before. On any other day, Michael would have been terrified, but he was too furious to care.

“Just leave me THE FUCK ALONE!”

_SMACK_

At first, Michael wasn’t sure what happened. There was silence, he was suddenly staring at a Marley poster, and he could no longer feel the warmth of his tea in his hands. It wasn’t until the burning in his cheek caught up to him that he realised his mother had hit him. He slowly turned his head back towards her, eyes wide, mouth slack. She had never so much as raised a finger in his direction. Neither of them had anticipated the action. At all. 

“Michael…” Her eyes were wider than his as she processed the situation. How could she have just done that? “Michael I’m-!”

“Don’t.” He shook his head, grabbed his backpack, and pulled up his hood, heading for the stairs. 

“What’s going on down here?” Mom 1.1 appeared in the above doorway as Michael reached the landing that would take him outside. “I heard yelling.” 

“I’m going out.” Michael didn’t turn to face either of his moms before yanking the door open and slamming it behind him, making sure they got the message not to follow him. He stalked down the driveway, surprised at how calm he felt. He simply placed his headphones over his ears, jammed his hands in his pockets, and stared at the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that I feel bad for Michael even though I'm the one that wrote this? Oh well... I know I'm evil, and Michael deserves so much better than this, but I don't exactly know how to write happy so... I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading, I'll see you in the next one! <3


	13. Chapter 13

Jeremy had just gotten dressed in some red and black plaid cotton pants and an oversized black t-shirt when Michael’s text tone sounded from across the room. He tossed the towel he’d been using to rub some of the water out of his hair over the back of his desk chair and grabbed his phone off his bed. 

**Player 1 (9:52pm)** Can I come in? 

Jeremy’s brows pulled together for a moment, but realization dawned on him a few seconds later and he knelt on his bed to peer out the window. Sure enough, Michael was in his driveway, waving up at the glass between them. Jeremy bolted downstairs, unlocking the door as fast as he could and ushering Michael in out of the cold. 

“What happened?” Jeremy demanded once Michael was inside and his headphones were strung around his neck. “Why is your face bleeding?” one of the scabs from Michael’s faceplant had reopened and was seeping slightly. 

“Is it?” He reached up and sure enough, his fingers came back sticky with congealing blood coating them. “Huh…” 

“Michael, what happened?” Jeremy tried again. 

“I got in a fight with my mom.” Michael sighed. “It ended with her backhanding me and me walking out and showing up here.” 

“Which mom?” Jeremy’s mouth fell open at Michael’s explanation. 

“Which one do you think?” Michael scoffed. 

“I mean if I had to choose I’d say Diane-”

“Bingo.” 

“But you never fight with your moms. Ever!” 

“I’m aware.” Michael sighed. “I mean, we’ve definitely fought before but… not like this.” 

“What was it about?” 

“She asked me if-”

“Michael?” Mr. Heere suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, peering down at the boys through the dim hallway. “Is everything okay?” 

“He’s spending the night.” Jeremy jumped in before Michael could say anything. 

“Your mothers called to see if you were here. They said you weren’t answering your phone.” 

“Well, here I am.” Michael held his arms out with a smirk. 

“You’re not running away are you?” 

“Just for tonight.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s acceptable.” Mr. Heere chuckled. “Let me know if you need anything, I’m calling your mothers back now. You should answer your phone, they’re worried sick.” 

“I will.” Michael nodded. “Eventually.” He added once Mr. Heere had disappeared down the hall. 

“Basement?” Jeremy offered. 

“Basement.” Michael agreed. 

Once downstairs, the boys pulled out the beanbag chairs, sleeping bags, and air mattress that would serve as their sleeping quarters for the night. Jeremy fetched the overnight bag that Michael left at the Heere residence for nights such as this. Both boys had learned to leave a couple of outfits and sleep attire at the other’s house years ago considering how often their videogame nights turned into sleepovers. 

“You were saying?” Jeremy pressed once Michael had returned from the bathroom, clad in a burgundy long sleeve t-shirt and black and grey checkered pants. He plopped onto the mattress before continuing his story. 

“She asked me if I had relapsed.” Michael huffed, knowing Jeremy would understand what he meant. “And wouldn’t believe me when I told her no.” Jeremy nodded with a look of concern, content to listen until Michael had nothing more to say. “She just kept digging and digging until I snapped and started yelling at her, and she yelled back, and then I guess she just got really mad and… you know…” 

“Where was 1.1?” Jeremy asked after a moment of silence that indicated Michael was finished. 

“She has a migraine, so she was upstairs. She came down when she heard us yelling, but I was already out the door.” 

“Geez man, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s my own fault.” Michael shrugged. “She’d already had a shit day and I made it worse.” 

“That doesn’t give her an excuse to hit you though.” 

“I mean, she didn’t mean to.” Michael recalled his mother’s glassy eyes and felt the guilt tightening in his stomach. “She looked more surprised than me.” 

“So you’re not mad?” 

“I don’t think so. I just… needed space? I don’t know. I didn’t appreciate the way she handled it, and I guess I wanted her to know that.” 

“How could she have done it better?” Jeremy was asking mostly for himself, in case he ever needed to confront Michael about a sensitive topic. And he seemed open for sharing at the moment, so it was worth a shot. 

“The best course of action would have been to get 1.1 to do it. 1.0 isn’t the best when it comes to that kind of stuff. But if that wasn’t possible, then just not repeating the same question over and over and making me feel like a lying piece of shit when I’m telling the truth.” 

_“Or making you feel like the disgustingly deceitful human you are.”_

_“Oh fuck off.”_ Michael snapped at the voice, hoping an annoyed expression hadn’t accompanied his forceful thought. 

“Fair enough.” Jeremy nodded. The two sat in silence for a few minutes until Jeremy broke it. “Is there anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

“Since when are you my therapist?” Michael chuckled at his best friend, finding it funny that this venting session seemed more helpful than any of his actual therapy sessions with Dr. Evans. 

“Whatever you need me to be, man.” Jeremy smirked. “It’s what best friends are for.” 

“I think I’m good. Sorry for showing up unannounced.” 

“Michael.” Jeremy warned. “Don’t apologize for things that don’t need apologies.” 

“Okay fine, thank you for having me on such short notice?” 

“Better.” The two giggled but were interrupted by Michael’s phone buzzing in his pocket. “Which one is it?” 

Michael pulled out his cell and was relieved to see **Mom v 1.1** displayed across his screen. “1.1” he sighed. 

“You gonna answer it?” 

“I guess.” Michael sighed again and connected the call. “Hey.” 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Mom 1.1 sounded exhausted, and Michael felt the guilt clenching at his insides again. She was up because of him. She was worried about him. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course.” Michael ran his hand through his hair, strongly considering running home at that exact moment and apologizing for everything. But he was just too damn tired. “Are you guys?” 

“Yes, yes, we’re fine now that we know where you are.” Mom 1.1 assured. “What exactly happened between you and your mom?” 

“Didn’t she tell you already?” 

“She did, I want your side.” 

“Fair enough.” Michael let out a shaky breath and felt Jeremy’s hand plant itself gently on his shoulder. “Well, she asked me if I had started… cutting… again.” Michael _hated_ saying that word out loud. It made him sound like an angsty teen in a movie about high school. “And when I told her no, she asked me to show her to prove it. I got mad that she didn’t trust me and started yelling at her, she started yelling back, and then she… you know… hit me. Then I got up and walked to Jeremy’s.” 

“I’m sorry, Michael.” His mom sighed after a moment of silence that let her know Michael was finished speaking. “We just worry.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone.” There were twelve missed calls and twenty-three text messages between the two of them. 

“It’s okay, you needed space, I completely understand. Just, let us know where you’re going next time, okay?” 

“Well let’s hope there’s not a next time.” Michael chuckled. 

“Yeah, let’s go with that option.” Mom 1.1 agreed with a small laugh of her own. “Are you staying the night at Jeremy’s?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, will we see you tomorrow?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Okay, take your time.” 

“Thanks, mom.” 

“I love you. We both do.” 

“I love you both too.” 

“You okay?” Jeremy gave Michael’s shoulder a squeeze as he hung up the phone. 

“I think so.” Michael nodded, readjusting his glasses. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s okay.” Jeremy assured. “It’s not easy fighting with your parents. You want to be mad but you love them and they love you so it’s hard but they’re annoying so it’s also easy and it just becomes a big confusing pile of shit topped with guilt. Am I close?” 

“Dead on.” Michael chuckled. It was astounding that Jeremy’s rambling could so often come to a solid, cohesive point. “I guess you’d know about this stuff, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded with a sad smile, recalling all the times he had vented to Michael about his father’s refusal to put on pants or leave the house or do literally anything. “I’m glad we finally got our shit together. Constantly being at each other’s throats was no fun.” 

“I can’t see it being any sort of enjoyable.” 

“Be glad you largely get along with your parents.” 

“Trust me, I’m beyond grateful for what I have.” And he was. It was amazing to have supportive parents who threw their money down the drain so Michael could take his crazy pills and talk to a shrink. Guilt inducing, but amazing. 

“Good.” Jeremy smiled and pulled Michael into a tight hug, just now noticing that his friend was trembling. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know.” Michael admitted, clutching tighter to Jeremy. 

“It’s okay.” Jeremy pulled Michael even closer. “_You’re_ okay. You’re safe.” 

“I know.” Michael’s voice cracked and the floodgates opened. He cried into Jeremy’s shoulder, shuddering and gasping, trying to focus on Jeremy’s soothing assurances and keep himself from losing control. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” Michael finally managed after a few minutes, moving to detach from Jeremy. But Jeremy held him tight, for which Michael was grateful. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re upset, you’re allowed to cry.” 

“But your shirt is wet now.” 

Jeremy laughed out loud at Michael’s comment, smile widening when he felt a giggle fight through Michael as well. “It’s _my_ house, Michael. I have lots of shirts here.” 

“That’s a fair statement.” 

“I’m aware.” Jeremy gave Michael one last squeeze before experimentally loosening his grip. When Michael pulled away, Jeremy dropped his arms too. “Better?” 

“Yeah.” Michael nodded, a genuine smirk gracing his exhausted face. 

“You need sleep.” Jeremy commanded gently, going into mother hen mode. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” 

Michael watched as Jeremy dashed up the stairs to change out of his tear-stained t-shirt and sighed. 

_“You’re quite the drama queen, aren’t you?_” Michael just stared down at his hands. _“Do you think Rich does that whenever his dad hits him? No. He’s a man. He takes it like a man. Your mom slapped you. Not even that hard. It didn’t even hurt that bad. Why are you being such a little bitch about it? At least you still have both of your parents. Jeremy’s mom fucked off to who knows where. Same with Rich’s. Jake’s parents are federal criminals and they’re on the run across the globe. You have a happy, complete, put together little household and you’re crying over an argument with your mother? Brooke and Chloe have screaming matches with their parents every other day. Jenna does nothing but complain about how annoying and overbearing her dad is. Grow the fuck up.”_

“Michael?” Jeremy placed a gentle hand on his friend’s knee, removing it quickly when he jolted back to reality. “You okay? You were gone for a second there.” 

“Yeah, just… tired.” Michael shrugged, pulling his sleeves down over the heels of his hands for comfort. 

“Well lay down then.” Jeremy confiscated Michael’s glasses and plugged their phones in while Michael nestled into the partially deflated air mattress, back pressed into his designated beanbag chair, one of the unzipped sleeping bags covering him from neck to toe. He slipped his headphones on, keeping the volume low so he wouldn’t disturb Jeremy. 

“Wake me up if you need anything, okay?” Jeremy smiled as he settled himself in at the other end of the mattress. 

“Okay.” Michael nodded. 

“Michael. I mean it.” 

“Okay.” Michael reiterated with more passion. 

“Okay.” Jeremy submitted with a yawn. “Goodnight, favouwite pewson.” 

“Night.” Michael chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Fun fact, my amazing mother made me cry earlier when she gave me a giant collage poster of pictures from our trip to NYC this past summer! These included stage door selfies, Shubert Alley photos, and pictures of me in my Michael cosplay in front of the Lyceum! That gift really sparked my inspiration and I ended up writing a couple of chapters after all the presents were exchanged. 
> 
> I hope everyone celebrating today had an awesome day with their families, and to everyone else, happy whatever other holiday you celebrate! 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, and I'll see y'all in the next one! <3


	14. Chapter 14

Michael stared at the wall for a while, but did eventually manage to fall asleep. Not for long enough, however. He was startled awake, what felt like mere minutes later, by Jeremy gently shaking him by the shoulder. 

“Sorry.” Jeremy smirked at Michael’s wide eyes. “You were really out, huh?” 

“I guess.” Michael sat up and rubbed at his bleary eyes, wanting nothing more than to curl back up and return to his dreamless pit. “What time is it?” He asked when he noticed the light was on and Jeremy was already dressed. 

“Almost eight.” Jeremy shrugged. “I let you sleep as long as I could. Sorry buddy.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Michael hauled himself off the mattress, grabbing his glasses, hoodie, and overnight bag on his way to the bathroom. “You can’t exactly let me sleep in your basement all day!” 

“I mean, I _could_, but I don’t know whether or not I _should_.” Jeremy laughed back. 

Michael emerged from the bathroom a minute later, fully dressed, hair somewhat messed with, deodorant on, teeth brushed, and face scrubbed. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” Jeremy rose with a sound of exertion and passed Michael his backpack. “Your place?” He followed Michael’s polar bear hood up the stairs. 

“Unless you want to walk to school and leave me without any of my stuff.” Michael tossed a cheeky grin over his shoulder. 

“You have your backpack.” Jeremy pointed out. 

“That currently contains one notebook, a singular pen, a phone charger, and some weed.” 

“Not helpful.” Jeremy shook his head.

“Not helpful.” Michael agreed as they set off towards his house. “Thanks again for last night.” 

“Any time.” 

The rest of the walk was silent, both boys just existing, matching each other’s breath, feet hitting the pavement in sync. 

When they reached his back door, Michael peeled back the tape at the top of the doorframe and grabbed the spare key. He quickly gathered his belongings while Jeremy puttered around the kitchen in search of food.

“Alright, good to go?” Michael peered into the kitchen and found Jeremy closing a cabinet. 

“Is there any way I can convince you to eat breakfast?” Jeremy asked, grabbing his peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the counter. 

“Even when I wasn’t fucked up I could never eat breakfast.” Michael shook his head with a smile as he lead the way out to the car. “You know that.” 

“Okay. For the record, you are not ‘fucked up.’” Jeremy scolded. 

“How would you refer to me, then?” Michael smirked. “Crazy? Sick? Mentally unstable?” 

“None of the above.” Jeremy smiled. “You’re just Michael.” 

“Aaaawweeeee Jer.” Michael stole a glance at his best friend, who was stuffing his face rather unattractively with PB&J. 

“It’s true.” His voice was sounded sticky and thick. 

“Stop.” Michael rolled his eyes with a grin as he pulled into a drive through for his much needed morning caffeine. 

“Fine.” Jeremy submitted as Michael received his coffee through the window and set course for the school. “But I mean it. You’re the same to me as you were when you rescued me from the supply closet on the third day of kindergarten.” 

“Oh my _god_!” Michael laughed out loud at that memory. 

*****

_Michael was sitting at the end of one of the long rectangular tables in his brightly coloured classroom. Before him was a colouring page with a monkey swinging from a tree in a jungle. The crayons had been claimed by the rest of the kids at his table, who were talking excitedly, tossing colours back and forth, and concentrating intently on filling in the inked lines. He just sat, peering around at his surrounding class. He hadn’t talked to anyone yet. Every time he tried he would falter and walk away. He seemed to be invisible to the others kids, considering none of them had bothered to talk to him either. Even now, he was sitting alone, the closest kids to him three chairs away. _

“Well if they won’t share I’ll get my own crayons.” _The thought suddenly dawned on him. He’d seen the teacher go in the closet just a few feet away from him to get the colouring supplies, who was stopping him from doing the same? Besides, how could he be expected to finish his work if he didn’t have crayons? _

_Michael spotted the teacher across the room, her back to him as she knelt on the ground to talk to another student. He didn’t want to interrupt to ask permission, so he got up, unseen by the rest of the room, and quietly walked over to the closet. When he tried the doorknob, he found it locked. Luckily, the door locked from the outside, so he simply twisted the latch and gained access to the supply closet. What Michael was not expecting to see on the other side of the door was another boy, curled up in the middle of the floor in tears._

_“Are you okay?” Michael asked, causing the boy to look up. “Why are you in the closet?” _

_“I came in to get crayons and someone locked the door.” The boy explained, furiously wiping his tears away. “Nobody would share with me.” _

_“Me neither.” Michael smirked and pushed up his glasses. “Get some now, I’ll make sure the door stays open.” _

_“Thank you.” The boy took Michael’s offered hand and got to his feet._

_“I’m Michael.” Michael smiled sheepishly as the boy grabbed a box of crayons off the shelf._

_“I’m Jeremy.” Jeremy grinned back. It was impossible to tell he’d been crying just moments before. _

_“Hey, Jeremy…” Michael hesitated. He’d never done this before. “Do you want to… be friends with me?” _

_Jeremy’s grin spread impossibly wider. “Yeah!” He was bouncing o his toes now. “I’ve never made a friend before!”_

_“What are you boys doing in the closet?” Their teacher suddenly appeared, one eyebrow raised at the pair._

_“Making friends.” Michael explained with a giggle._

_“Well that’s great, but I think we can do that in our seats.” She smiled down at them, ushering them to leave the closet._

_“Okay.” The boys nodded in unison. _

_“Come sit with me and we can share the crayons?” Michael offered. _

_“Yeah!” Jeremy squealed._

*****

“I’d like to think I’m somewhat different than I was in kindergarten.” Michael pondered as Jeremy continued laughing. “Smarter hopefully.” 

“You’re missing my point.” Jeremy wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m saying that you’re just as wonderful now as you were back then. You’ve rescued me from many closets since that day.” 

“You’re so sappy.” Michael rolled his eyes, but felt his cheeks flushing at Jeremy’s kind words. 

“You know I am.” He winked as Michael pulled into his parking space and looked over. 

“Thanks, Jer.” Michael sighed with a smile. “I needed that.” 

“Any time.” Jeremy patted Michael on the knee before they got out of the car to start their day. 

“One large cherry slushie for the king of computers.” Rich slid the already sweating plastic cup across the table as Michael and Jeremy pulled out chairs across from him. 

“Thank you, loyal page.” Michael bowed dramatically before sitting down and taking a deep drink of his sugar. 

“You guys do anything exciting last night?” Rich asked. They were the only three at the table so far. Rich was always the first one to the school, unless Jake had some club meeting or another, but the he would show up to the caf late if at all. Jenna would show up exactly fifteen minutes before first bell, Chloe and Brooke not far behind her. Christine had a habit of either squeaking in right under the wire, or showing up with the other girls. And Jeremy and Michael were always popping up randomly, their arrival dependant on how long it took Michael to drag himself out of bed that morning. 

“Impromptu sleepover.” Jeremy blurted without thinking. Michael flinched mid coffee sip and tried not to roll his eyes or glare at Jeremy. 

“Sound fun.” Rich nodded, but his eyes lingered on Michael for a moment. 

“Anything exciting happen with you?” Michael quickly diverted attention. 

“Nah.” Rich shrugged. 

“Wow, we’re just a crazy bunch aren’t we?” Jeremy chuckled. 

“The wildest.” Rich agreed. 

“Friends!” Brooke called as all four girls pulled up spots at the table. “How is everyone today?” 

A chorus of groans and ‘fine’s and ‘tired’s and ‘is it the weekend yet’s followed her question. 

“Come on guys, it’s only Wednesday.” Christine beamed, placing her hand on top of Jeremy’s on the table. “You can’t all be sick of the week already.” 

“Oh but we can.” Chloe huffed. “I have two essays, a presentation, and a script due by Friday and all of them are worth at least twenty five percent of the grade.” 

“Have you started them?” Rich asked, smirking. 

“I’ve started them. But the question is, will I finish them?” 

“What classes?” Jeremy piped up next. 

“Essays are for English and gender studies, the presentation is in bio, and the script is for writers’ craft.” 

“Yeesh.” Jenna sighed. “Sounds like you won’t be sleeping for the next few days.” 

“I hate school.” Chloe agreed. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just fast forward to a point where our lives were settled and our careers were stable and we had reliable incomes and our own houses and were married and all that?” Michael suddenly wondered aloud, mostly unaware that he had actually spoken. 

“Where’d that come from?” Brooke chuckled slightly, but was mildly concerned by the faraway look in Michael’s eyes as he stared upwards, not quite at the ceiling. 

“Just a thought.” Michael shrugged, still not all there. “Right now so many people our age are crumbling under the pressure. I wish we could just skip through this shit and get to a place where we’re comfortable.” 

“You okay there, Michael?” Christine’s brows pulled together and she gave Jeremy’s hand a squeeze to inquire about the train of thought. Though, Jeremy looked just as confused and worried at the rest of the table. 

“High school sucks, college will probably be worse, finding careers will be hell, but then things will be okay. Right?” His face was contorting into something like a frown, but more thoughtful and… scared? Yeah. Scared. Michael looked scared. 

“Michael…?” Brooke reached out and placed a gentle hand on Michael’s arm. He flinched and pulled away from her. 

“You okay?” Jeremy’s voice was thick with concern, and Michael glanced around to find everyone staring at him. 

“Yeah, fine.” Michael shook his head and pushed away from the table. 

“Where are you going?” Rich called, standing up with the intention to follow. 

“Bathroom.” Michael hurried through the caf doors and all but sprinted down the hall.

“What was that about?” Jenna was the one to break the silence as they all watched him disappear from view. 

“Existential crisis?” Rich offered, sitting back down hesitantly. 

“He was like, really gone.” Chloe recalled the blank, almost empty look in Michael’s usually expressive eyes. 

“Completely gone.” Brooke nodded. 

“I’m gonna go check on him.” Jeremy shook his head, the gravity of the situation suddenly setting in, and hopped up from the table, speed walking through the partially filled hallway, hoping Michael had told the truth about his destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking of writing some BMC "kindergarten" one shot stories. I've found myself imagining scenes between the squad in the younger grades and they're all pretty cute if I do say so myself... Would that be something y'all would be interested in? Let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 see you soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING. This chapter contains depictions and descriptions of self-harm. I urge you not to read if you're sensitive to that kind of content.

Michael tried to keep his breathing normal as he wove his way through the hall, head down, hood up, hands stuffed in his pockets. He needed to hold it together until he reached his destination: the bathroom at the far end of the tech wing. It was almost always deserted, especially in the morning before classes began. He sped past students and teachers alike, dodging effortlessly through the ever thickening crowd, the door now in sight. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Michael finally pushed the door open and heaved a sigh of relief when he found the room empty. He locked himself in the stall furthest from the door and collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. His hands dug through his backpack with no help from his brain, and came upon their desired object within seconds. He pulled out the cassette case with trembling fingers and opened it with a bit of difficulty. He could feel the relief begin to trickle through him as soon as the blade was in his hand. 

_“Stop!”_ he screamed at himself as he flipped the razor around in his hand, mesmerized by the light reflecting off of it. _“Think about what you’re doing! Is it worth it? Do you want more scars?” _

_“Yes, yes you do.”_ The voice cooed. _“Go ahead, dig yourself a deeper hole. You deserve it. You deserve to hurt. You could slit your wrists and bleed out in this stall and no one would even care.” _

_“I know.”_ Michael felt tears stinging behind his eyes as he rolled up his sleeve. He hesitated as he held the edge of the blade against his skin, right over his oldest scar. As the metal dug in, he found his mind recalling one of his worst memories. 

*****

_Michael was pacing around his bedroom, sweat pouring down his back and face, hands trembling as they gripped fistfuls of his hair, breath coming in short, harsh puffs. He couldn’t sleep-it was becoming a common phenomenon-he hadn’t been able to eat more than half of his dinner, and he’d listened to his moms apologize for the new bruise on his cheek for nearly half an hour. _

_His mind was racing. Thoughts were coming and going so quickly that he could hardly decipher their content before they sped away, replaced by the next indistinguishable topic. _

_ “Just shut up!” Michael hissed out loud, giving his hair a firm tug. He felt chunks ripping out from the root, and a mild sting spread underneath his tight fists. He focussed on that, the sting in his scalp. He needed something to focus on, something he could control. He tugged again, and timed a deeper breath with the sharp sting. “Fucking hell…” He gasped as soon as the pain was gone. He’d promised himself he would never let himself get to this point, but he just needed it to stop. _

_ “Fuck it!” Michael cried out, louder than he intended. It was a good thing his moms both slept like the dead. He crossed the floor to his desk and pulled out the Marley cassette case that had been shoved in the back corner for weeks. His entire body was shaking as he opened the case and pulled out the spare blade from the box cutter that he’d swiped from the garage. He turned it over in his shaking hands, light from his neon sign bouncing off the pristine metal edges. _

_He hesitated for a moment, as he’d done nearly every night for the past month. Every other time he’d pulled the blade out, he’d just stared at it for an hour or two before hiding it away again. But tonight… tonight Michael held the sharp edge to the soft skin of his inner forearm, right below the ditch of his elbow. _

“Do you really want this?” _his own voice echoed in his head. _

_ “I need it.” Michael squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed down. The sting was immediate and intense, and oh so wonderful. He focussed on the pain, his mind clearing almost instantaneously. Everything was silent for a few minutes. Then the guilt set in. _

“What did I just do?!” _he flung the blade across the room with that thought and pushed himself back into his bedframe. The tears flowed freely and he could feel the panic attack beginning to take over. He scrambled for his phone, quickly selecting Jeremy’s contact and pressing the device to his ear. Jeremy made things better. He knew how to calm Michael down. He needed Jeremy. But wait… it was three in the morning. “Fuck!” Michael gasped and tossed his phone as Jeremy’s voicemail answered his call. “Calm down.” He tried to command himself, but his breaths were getting shorter and the tremor in his core was becoming stronger. _

_And then he remembered the momentary relief he’d felt when he’d dug the blade into his skin. He lunged for the silver parallelogram, glinting in the corner of his dark room, illuminated by the currently purple neon light. He didn’t think before digging the blade into his skin again, this cut parallel with the first. He repeated the motion again. And again. And again. He felt like mere seconds had passed, but clearly he was wrong considering there was suddenly another hand on his and the blade was being wrestled away from him. _

_ “Michael?” Jeremy finally got the blade away from his best friend, tears in his eyes as he took in the bloody mess. There were five perfectly straight cuts running across Michael’s left arm. _

_ “What are you doing here?” Michael demanded, annoyed that Jeremy had taken away his source of relief. _

_ “You called me.” Jeremy reminded, holding back tears. “When I called and texted you back you didn’t answer so I came over. I thought you were having a panic attack.” _

_ “I was.” Michael shrugged, and suddenly it hit him. Jeremy had just witnessed him cutting himself. “Jeremy, I-!” _

_ “It’s okay.” Jeremy assured as soon as he saw the look on Michael’s face. He took Michael’s shaking hands and looked him dead in the eyes. “It’s okay.” _

_ “You must think I’m a freak.” Michael tried for a laugh but it caught in his throat and sounded more like a strangled sob. _

_ “No.” Jeremy shook his head and gave Michael’s hands a squeeze. “You’re not a freak. But… why did you do i?.” _

_ “I…” Michael couldn’t quite form his thoughts. “I needed control.” He tried, beyond grateful for Jeremy’s patience when it came to this kind of stuff. “Like… god this sounds so stupid… everyone in my life tries to control me. The people at school try to make me feel like shit, my shrink tries to make me better, my moms try to make me eat and sleep and talk to them, you try to make me happy, even my pills try to balance the chemicals in my brain. I just… I needed to control how I was feeling for once.” _

_ “That’s not stupid.” Jeremy shook his head with a smile when Michael no longer looked like he was searching for words. “Not even a little bit. I just… think we can find a better way to go about that.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” Michael tried to pull his hands away from Jeremy’s, face burning red, tears flowing faster than they ever had. But Jeremy held tight, keeping his world from crashing down. _

_ “Don’t be.” Jeremy moved to stand up and pulled Michael off the floor with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” _

_ “Shouldn’t you go back home?” Michael allowed himself to be led across the basement to his bathroom. “Won’t your dad be worried…?” _

_ “I’ll text him later.” Jeremy shrugged. It wasn’t the first time he and Michael had ‘met up super early to finish a project.’ “I’m not going anywhere.”_

*****

Michael felt his heart slowing and his breaths becoming fuller as he watched his own blood drip into the clear water below, swirling artfully in the surprisingly clean toilet bowl. His mind quieted as he methodically pulled the double edged razor across his arm, feeling the numbness he so craved spreading through him, leaving just the sting of his new scars. He didn’t think about the guilt he would feel in a few minutes. He didn’t think about what his friends would say if they ever found out. He just thought about how in that moment, he felt better. And that was what he needed.

_“God you’re fucked up.” _ He thought to himself as he swiped the blade across his skin for what would be the last time. He felt warm and light as he stared at the mess he’d made. His twelve new scars reached from his elbow to the ‘O’ in ‘LOSER’ which sat three inches below. They were perfectly spaced, perfectly parallel, perfectly disgusting. He hated them. 

Michael sighed and tossed the blade back into the cassette case, too tired to bother with cleaning it right then. He’d do it later, or just open a fresh razor from the pack in his desk. He searched his bag for the roll of gauze he kept with him at all times, and began wrapping up his arm in a thick layer to keep his hoodie safe from the blood. He wouldn’t risk leaving the stall to wash the blood off, that would have to wait until he was home. He had just finished patching himself up and had flushed his blood down the toilet when he heard the bathroom door explode open and frantic footsteps make their way inside. 

“Michael?” Jeremy’s voice sounded panicked and he was slightly out of breath. 

“Yeah.” Michael called back, voice slightly broken as he replaced his sleeve. Jeremy’s feet dashed to the back of the room, stopping right outside the stall that held Michael’s voice. 

“Are you okay?” Jeremy could see Michael’s backpack and the bottoms of his shoes peeking out from the gap between the floor and the door. 

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “Felt like I was gonna throw up.” 

“Did you?” 

“No.” 

“Do I need to get Lydia?” 

“No.” Michael hauled himself off the floor, making sure his sleeves were pulled over the heels of his hands before he opened the door. “I’m fine.” 

“You should go lay down.” Jeremy followed Michael to the sink where he washed his hands and splashed his face with cool water. 

“Really Jer, I’m fine.” Michael assured with a smile. He was. He felt much better. “Sorry I ran off like that.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Jeremy handed Michael a few sheets of paper towel, eyeing him closely while he dabbed at his face. “So long as you’re okay…” 

“I am.” Michael tossed his trash and smirked at Jeremy. “Thanks for coming to rescue me.” 

“Sorry I took so long, there are three bathrooms between the caf and here.” Jeremy followed Michael back out into the now quite crowded hallway. 

“I know, this one is always empty.” Michael explained. 

“Fair enough.” Jeremy shrugged. 

They walked in silence back to the cafeteria, Jeremy side eyeing Michael the whole way. He _ did_ seem to be feeling better, more relaxed than Jeremy had seen him in a while. 

“Everything okay?” Rich and Christine demanded in unison as soon as Jeremy and Michael returned to their table. 

“Yeah.” Michael smiled as he fell back into his seat, six pairs of worried eyes following him. 

“You sure?” Jenna pressed. 

“You looked really freaked out.” Chloe added on. 

“It was kinda scary.” Brooke’s bottom lip was between her teeth. 

“Really guys, I’m fine.” Michael grabbed his coffee cup, draining the rest of his glorious morning elixir in one gulp. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” 

“Okay…” Brooke backed down first, everyone else relaxing slightly after her. “Just if you need anything…” 

“We’re all here for you.” Rich finished. 

“I know.” Michael smiled as the bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again, I've been really busy trying to sort out a bunch of school stuff. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed (probably not the best word) or perhaps maybe just had an emotional response to this chapter. Thank you guys for sticking around through the rough upload schedule, and I'll see y'all in the next one.


	16. Chapter 16

“Michael, hang back a minute, will you?” Miller called as the bell rang. Michael fell back into his chair with a huff, ignoring the snickers and looks he got from the other students. 

“What?” He asked as soon as the last students had left the room, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 

“I wanted to talk about Monday.” Miller sighed as he shut the door then wandered over to a desk near Michaels to face him. 

“What about it?” Michael looked Miller dead in the eyes, daring him to say anything. 

Miller fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, refusing to meet Michael’s cold stare. His mouth opened and closed a few times while he attempted to gather his fleeting thoughts. “Well firstly I wanted to apologize.” 

Michael simply raised an eyebrow when his teacher finally worked up the courage to look at him. 

“I shouldn’t have called attention to your…” he trailed off, gaze returning to his shoes. 

“My?” Michael snapped, wanting Miller to know how pissed he was. 

“Your… issue.” Miller decided on and Michael scoffed. 

“What ‘issue’ would you be referring to?” He demanded. “You’re acting as if it’s some secret. Every person in this room knows what you’re talking about, just say it.” 

Miller was taken aback by Michael’s tone. He had always been a reserved, respectful student before this encounter. “I was simply trying to avoid another…” Miller faltered again. 

“Just fucking say it!” Michael finally gave up. He was going to be late for computer science, he’d probably have to go smoke at lunch in order to stay calm the rest of the day, and he could already picture himself skipping Miller’s class for the foreseeable future. 

“I don’t want to use the terms self-harm or panic attack because I don’t want to upset you.” Miller huffed, although he couldn’t be too upset with Michael. His anger was completely justified. 

“Whatever.” Michael grunted, moving to shoulder his bag again. “Can I go to class now? Your ‘apology’ seems to be finished.” 

“Is everything okay at home?” Miller stood as soon as Michael was on his feet, blocking his path to the door. 

“Of course.” Michael’s voice was low and his shoulders were creeping up to his ears as he debated whether or not he’d be able to get around his teacher. “Why would you ask me that?” 

“By the way you begged me not to call your parents I thought maybe-”

“You thought wrong.” 

“Michael, I only have your safety and well-being in mind.” 

“I am perfectly safe at home.” He snapped, infuriated at the notion that his mothers could be causing him any sort of distress. “How dare you make such a ridiculous accusation.” 

“Try to see this from my perspective.” Miller begged. “As a teacher it’s my job to make sure my students are-”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Michael was seething at this point. “I suggest you move out of my way before I file a harassment claim.” 

Miller simply heaved a sigh and sidestepped Michael as he stalked towards the door. 

“Oh.” He stopped as his fingers wrapped around the doorknob. “I don’t accept your apology.” 

Michael slammed the door behind him and tugged his hood up as he stomped to the tech wing for comp sci. For once he didn’t care how much attention he was drawing, especially considering the dwindling numbers of those who were still in the hallway. The second bell had already gone off, meaning he was late, but Sullivan wouldn’t care. He didn’t care about anything other than assignments being completed on time. 

“Where were you?” Jeremy whispered as Michael slid into his seat. Sullivan had already began his lecture, and hadn’t even turned away from the chalkboard when Michael slipped through the door. 

“Miller tried to talk about Monday.” Michael grumbled, taking a quick glance at the board to see if the lesson was worth paying attention to. Hardware. He’d breeze through this unit in a week tops. 

“Again with that?” Jeremy shook his head, looking offended. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Mr. Heere and Mr. Mell.” Their heads snapped up at the sound of their names. “I would very much appreciate if you two could stop causing distractions in my class.” 

“Sorry, sir.” Jeremy sighed and Michael just rolled his eyes. Sullivan went back to labelling his very rough sketch of a motherboard, and Jeremy and Michael grabbed their phones to continue the conversation. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them that Michael would be Jeremy’s private tutor for the class seeing as he knew nearly everything there was to know about computers already, and was simply taking the class to fill the last slot on his timetable. 

**Player 2 (10:12am) ** so what did he want???

**Player 1 (10:12am) ** To “apologize.” But all he did was dance around the topic and acknowledge that he called attention to something that could be triggering. 

**Player 2 (10:12am) ** what even made him think it was okay to do that in the first place? 

**Player 1 (10:13am) ** “As a teacher it is his responsibility to ensure the safety and well-being of his students.” 

**Player 2 (10:13am) ** oh fuck off

**Player 1 (10:13am) ** Essentially what I told him

**Player 1 (10:14am) ** OH! He also asked if my moms were mistreating me. 

**Player 2 (10:15am)** JESUS FUCK he could not have picked a less accurate accusation! 

**Player 1 (10:16am)** IKR????? The man is insufferably idiotic. 

**Player 2 (10:16am) ** seriously. 

**Player 2 (10:19am) ** you still coming over tonight? 

**Player 1 (10:21am) ** Yeah. I have to go home and patch things over first. Plus they’re leaving tonight so I should say goodbye. 

**Player 1 (10:22am) )** fair enough, what time are they heading out? 

**Player 2 (10:22 am) )** Flight takes off at ten so they’re heading out around six… Hope they’re not napping when I get home lol

**Player 1 (10:23am) )** they probably won’t be

**Player 2 (10:24am)** Yeah probably not

The boys sent messages back and forth for the rest of the period, not paying any attention at all to the monotonous lesson taking place at the other end of the classroom. There was a collective sigh of relief among the whole class when the bell sounded, releasing them to the cafeteria for lunch. 

“Hey hey!” Jenna greeted with a huge smile as Jeremy and Michael pulled up chairs at the otherwise vacant table. “How were your mornings?” 

“Boring.” Jeremy shrugged. “Lessons in both classes.” 

“Same here.” Michael nodded and grabbed his water bottle from his bag. 

“I wish.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “We had to do some bullshit jigsaw activity in creative writing.” 

“Poetry?” Brooke asked as she and Chloe slid into a couple of the remaining chairs. 

“What else?” Jenna chuckled before popping the top on her can of iced tea. 

“I hate jigsaws.” Chloe agreed. “We literally had to analyze a poem as a group then form new groups and teach each other about the poem we analyzed.” 

“So stupid.” Jenna nodded. 

“So you guys didn’t get time to work on your scripts?” Jeremy asked, recalling the conversation from that morning. 

“Nope.” Chloe sighed and plucked the apple off her tray while Jenna shook her head. “But we got a work period in bio so Brooke and I managed to knock out a few paragraphs of our gender studies essays.”

“I’ve just got my third body and conclusion left.” Brooke agreed as she dug into her pizza. 

“Whaddup kids?” Jake greeted as he and Rich sat down, Christine hurrying behind them. 

“How’s everyone?” Christine filled the last empty seat and leaned on Jeremy as she smiled around at everyone. 

Michael allowed himself to fade into the background as the conversation droned on. Everyone was discussing that week’s assignments (he’d already done his), their plans for the upcoming spring break (he had none), and what night they would all be going to see Christine as Viola in the local production of Twelfth Night. He just listened, partially zoned out, staring at the table below him. 

“Earth to Michael!” he flinched as Brooke’s hand waved a few inches from his face. 

“Hmm?” He shook his head to snap himself back to attention. 

“We were asking if you’re free next Thursday for Christine’s show.” Jake smirked. 

“Oh uh…” Michael pulled out his phone and pretended to check his calendar, searching for an excuse. There was no way he was telling them where he would actually be on Thursday night. “No, actually, I have an optometrist appointment.” 

“Boo.” Chloe crossed her arms with a pout. “That was the only day everyone was free.” 

“What about Friday?” Michael would prefer they all just go without him, but they needed his car. “We could see the show and then get fro-yo after?” 

The table was silent for a second before everyone burst out laughing. Michael peered around, chuckling in confusion. 

“Why didn’t literally anyone else think of that?” Jeremy shook his head. 

“You act as if I’ve made some grand discovery.” Michael laughed now that he knew what was supposedly funny. 

“What would we do without you?” Rich playfully punched him in the shoulder. 

“Well, figure that out.” Michael smirked and shoved away from the table. 

“Where’re you going?” Christine asked as the giggles died down. 

“To smoke.” Michael tugged up his hood and shouldered his bag. “See you later!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love tension! Much more angst is coming, I promise! Thank y'all for reading, and I'll see you soon! <3


	17. Chapter 17

Michael didn’t even bother with the stoner clearing, it would undoubtedly be full on a sunny lunch break such as this. He instead walked around the edge of the forest, just behind the tree line, to a different clearing that nobody ever bothered with since it was surrounded on all sides by thorn bushes. Michael didn’t mind pushing through the brush in order to gain his privacy. In fact, he’d worn down a bit of a path with how many times he’d forced his way through the foliage. 

The clearing was small, the bushes separated him from the rest of the woods in a ten foot diameter. He collapsed in the center of his clearing where there was an old oak stump and leaned back against the rough bark. He dug through his bag for a moment before his fingers closed around the gauze roll, med tape, cotton pads and rubbing alcohol, all contained within a canvas bag that was once used to hold one of his mothers’ makeup. He glanced around and listened with his headphones around his neck, making sure no one was near before he rolled up his sleeves. He first admired his tattoo, a slight smile and a flicker of happiness gracing his face for a moment. But he couldn’t let himself stare too long. He moved his gaze to his other arm and began peeling back the bloodstained gauze. He needed to clean his new scars. He refused to let them get infected again. 

*****

_“Michael, are you okay?” Ms. Grant was standing over him, brows drawn together in concern. _

_“Uhhh…” Michael blinked a few times to focus. “Yeah, why?” _

_“You haven’t moved since the period started, and the bell went a few minutes ago…” Ms. Grant bit at her bottom lip. “You’re also shaking like a leaf.” _

_“I’m fine.” Michael scooped up his English binder and went to put it in his backpack, but found himself feeling nauseous as he leaned over the side of his desk. He sat back up and put his head down, feeling the sheen of sweat that coated his face. _

_“Send the nurse to room A102 immediately!” Ms. Grant had somehow teleported across the room to the PA system and was explaining the situation to the office. _

_“I’m fine.” Michael insisted, pushing himself up and subsequently falling back into his chair. _

_“Just sit.” Ms. Grant was back at his side. “Do you have water?” _

_Michael nodded, leaning heavily on his desk. Ms. Grant grabbed the Pacman water bottle from his bag and opened it before handing it to him. He took a sip, stomach reeling at the thought of drinking any more, but throat begging for hydration. Ms. Grant chattered at him, her words flying over his head as he focused on the ache in his body to keep himself grounded. _

_“Michael, what’s wrong?” Lydia’s voice snapped him back to attention and he looked up at her, unsure what to say. As soon as she took in his shaking, pale, sweating form, she gently pressed her hand to his forehead ad recoiled quickly. “You’re burning up, come on.” She offered her hands and tried to haul Michael out of his chair, but his knees refused to cooperate. _

_“Here!” Ms. Grant rolled her desk chair over and helped Lydia to transfer Michael into it. He was grateful that he could blame his flushed face on the fever as he was wheeled down the hall, propped up against the back of the chair like a ragdoll. Luckily class had started already, so there weren’t too many people lingering in the hallway to witness his humiliation. _

_“Okay, come on.” Lydia swooped under Michael’s arm to move him to a cot, his left arm pressed firmly into her shoulder as she did most of the work to get him on his feet. Michael let out a squeak and pulled away at the sharp pain that shot up to his shoulder. He landed in a heap on the floor when Lydia let go of him in surprise. “I’m sorry! What hurts?” _

_Michael had tears in his eyes as he cradled his arm close to his chest while still laying on the floor, breath picking up when he realized what was about to happen. “Call Jeremy.” He begged, needing his best friend’s calming presence. _

_“Michael let me see your-”_

_“Call Jeremy first!” _

_“Okay, okay.” Lydia suddenly clued into the fact that Michael was nearing a panic attack as he curled in on himself, and paged Jeremy to the nurse’s office. “Breathe, Michael.” _

_He held his arm tight to his body, refusing to let Lydia anywhere near him while he slowly forced himself to sit up. Jeremy appeared a couple of minutes later, by Michael’s side in an instant. _

_“What happened?” He could practically feel the heat emanating from the trembling boy before him. “Why did you come to school sick?” Jeremy managed to haul Michael off the floor and placed him on the cot, cringing at how warm Michael’s skin was. _

_“Felt fine this morning.” He lied, finally able to relax a bit now that Jeremy was there. _

_“Michael, can I see your arm now?” Lydia pressed, inching closer. Both boys tensed, and Jeremy planted himself firmly next to Michael on the bed with an arm around his shoulders. Michael sighed and shuddered beneath him before ungluing his arm from his chest and holding it out for Lydia. She gently took his hand in hers before rolling his sleeve up slowly, flinching at his hisses of pain. “Oh Michael…” she cringed at the mess as he curled in on himself and Jeremy held him tighter. “I’m calling your mothers.” _

_“No!” Michael tried to lunge at Lydia as she went for the phone, but Jeremy held him in place, nodding for Lydia to follow through with tears in his eyes. “No, please! Don’t call them, they don’t need this!” _

_“Michael you’ve got a severe infection.” Lydia tried to keep her voice calm as she couldn’t help but stare at the angry red skin and oozing green and yellow puss. “You need to go see a doctor and get on antibiotics right away. And a couple of those need stitches.” _

_“No you don’t understand-!”_

_“Hi Mrs. Mell, it’s Lydia from Middleborough.” Michael shut up then and just collapsed into Jeremy, sobbing as quietly as he could into his shoulder. “No, not a panic attack today, I need one of you to come to the school and get Michael... I don’t feel that it’s something I should explain over the phone, but it’s urgent... Yes…. Okay… thank you, see you soon.” _

_“Which one is coming?” Michael could barely muster up the strength to turn his head and face Lydia with what would have been a glare had he not been completely exhausted. _

_“Kelly.” Lydia sat herself down in the chair at the edge of the bed, making sure to leave lots of space between herself and Michael. He was livid, but she had to do it. _

_“Good.” He nodded, already feeling slightly calmer. 1.1 would at least keep her cool in the ER. _

_“Are you okay?” Jeremy pressed gently. _

_Michael nodded again and pushed up off of Jeremy’s shoulder at the same time. Bad plan. The room tipped and he felt a wave of nausea flow through him. Lydia barely got the trashcan in front of him before he expelled a disgusting amount of stomach acid into it. He hadn’t eaten in a few days, so the bile burned more than usual and he found himself dry heaving for a while without anything coming up. Lydia held him up on one side while Jeremy had the other, keeping him from toppling into the trash until he was finally done. “Or maybe not.” He shook his head, breathing hard. _

_“Lay down.” Lydia guided him back and confiscated his headphones and glasses. “Are you warm?” _

_“Freezing.” Michael was still shaking, from weakness, fear, post-sickness, and the chills. What a shitty day. _

_Lydia fetched a blanket from her supply closet and draped it over Michael as he curled onto his side, trying not to think about what was going to happen when his mom got there. _

_ "Don’t go to sleep, okay?” Lydia called as she grabbed him a glass of water and placed it on his bedside. “You can do that when you get home.” _

_“What’s gonna happen?” Michael’s voice cracked and Jeremy felt his heartbreaking. He’d wanted to tell Michael’s mothers about his problem since it had started six months prior, but he could never figure out how to bring it up. Now he was feeling nothing but guilt for keeping it quiet. _

_“Your mom will take you to the hospital, you’ll get cleaned up, and get help.” Lydia explained gently. _

_“Am I gonna get locked in a loony bin?” Michael tried for a joke but instead felt tears stinging behind his eyes again. _

_“You might be admitted.” Lydia sighed, feeling a stab of guilt in her chest at Michael’s dejected look. _

_“It’ll be okay.” Jeremy reached out and took Michael’s trembling hand in his, ignoring the patchwork of scars that latched onto his heart and squeezed far too tightly. “I promise.” _

_“Michael?” His mother’s voice surprised everyone and Michael instinctively pulled his arm to his chest. _

_“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Lydia guided his mom out into the hall, leaving the boys alone so she could explain. _

_“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked again, hoping for a truthful response now that Lydia was out of the room. _

_“I’m scared.” Michael admitted, tears dripping onto the pillow. _

_“What are you scared about?” _

_“What’s gonna happen to me.” Michael felt ridiculous, but Jeremy always listened to him. “How my moms are gonna react, what the doctors will say, where I’m gonna end up…” _

_“Well, whatever happens, I’ll be right there with you, okay?” Jeremy assured, holding back tears of his own at the fear in his best friend’s voice. “If you do get admitted I’ll visit you every day and bring you as many slushies as you want. If you get discharged and end up at home I’ll sneak into your basement every night if need be. I’m not going anywhere.” _

_“Why do you do this?” a sob and a gasp rattled through Michael’s chest and he groaned, the ache in his body worsening with every passing second. “Why do you put up with me?” _

_“I don’t ‘put up’ with you.” Jeremy shook his head with a small smile. “You’re my best friend. I’m by your side until the end of time. You did everything I needed when mom left. It’s my turn now.” _

_“I don’t deserve you.” _

_“And I don’t deserve you. So we’re even.” _

_“Michael, come on baby, let’s get you to the hospital.” His mom appeared over Jeremy’s shoulder, eyes glazed over from holding back tears. She helped him sit up and ducked under his arm to help him stand. Jeremy swooped under his other arm, needing to hold on as much as Michael needed him to hold on. Michael stumbled a few times, groaning softly for nearly the entire walk to the car. His mom kept cringing at the whimpers of pain her son was letting out, and Jeremy bit his tongue to keep from tearing up. This was serious. Michael was not in good shape. _

_ “I’ll bring your stuff by later.” Jeremy tried to smile once Michael was in the front seat of his car and his mom was running around to the driver’s side. “Keep me in the loop?” He looked to Kelly as she slid into her seat and buckled up. _

_ “Of course.” She nodded, throwing a worried glance at Michael. “Thank you, Jeremy.” He just nodded and shut the door between him and Michael, allowing them to drive away. _

*****

He hadn’t been admitted then. He’d simply gone to the ER, gotten patched up, been kept for a forty eight hour observation period during which he had an IV drip and oxygen tube, then gotten sent home with a prescription for antibiotics. He’d stayed home from school for a week and a half to recover, and his moms wouldn’t let him out of their sight for months after. It had been hell. Confessing to them. Watching them cry and beat themselves up for not noticing the warning signs. Listening to doctors reem them out for not bringing him sooner because he’d been in the beginning stages of septic shock when he had arrived. Constantly getting asked if he was being mistreated at home. All of it was too much, and he was being watched so closely that he couldn’t turn to weed or his confiscated blades for relief. Music just wasn’t enough when he had people on his ass twenty four seven. He had panic attacks every day. So yeah. He wouldn’t let his cuts get infected ever again. 

He cleaned himself up, feeling minor satisfaction in the fact that the ‘LOSER’ carving was becoming less and less legible each day, but feeling sick over the reason why. He kept his sleeves rolled up as he repacked his makeshift first aid kit and stuffed it in the very bottom of his bag. He stared at his work for a bit, debating whether he needed to smoke or not. Before he came upon his decision, however, he was shaken from his thoughts by a disgusting cackle. 

“I knew you were a little bitch but I didn’t think even _you_ were _that_ pathetic!” Michael’s head snapped up and his eyes met Dustin’s in horror. He quickly shoved his sleeve down, but the football player was on him in a second, pushing it back up and holding him in place as he strained to get away. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” He snapped, twisting and pulling, but unable to break his wrists free from Dustin’s meaty fists. 

“No chance.” Dustin ran his tongue over his front teeth. “I had no idea you were such an attention whore!” 

“Please.” Michael resorted to begging for freedom, face burning at the words that were so true. “Please just leave me alone.” 

“Don’t think so.” Dustin sneered. He somehow managed to maneuver Michael’s wrists so they were both encased in the iron grasp of his left hand, and pulled out his phone with his right, snapping a few pictures as Michael hung his head, willing the tears that stung so badly not to fall. “Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?” Dustin finally released his arms but moved his grip to Michael’s throat. The grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off his breath, but it was wildly uncomfortable and kept him stationary. 

“What?” He clawed at the hand on his neck, wanting nothing more than to just run away. He was only brave when there was someone to protect. 

“You heard me. Why haven’t you just offed yourself? No one would miss you. Lots of people would be thrilled. I’m sure the dykes would be glad to have the burden lifted. All your ‘friends’ too.” 

“I’m aware.” Michael succumbed to Dustin’s words the way he did to the voice in his head. 

“Then why haven’t you?” 

“Because I’m too chicken shit.” 

“Sounds about right.” Dustin finally released him but didn’t move from where he was squatted, too close for Michael to move. “Now. I’m not interested in getting kicked off the team, I’ve got college riding on the line. So. You keep anything that happens from Dillinger, and those pictures stay between you and me. But. If you so much as _think_ about telling him, everyone at the school will know your little secret. Do we have a deal?” 

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. He couldn’t care less about the bullying and beatings. He’d been dealing with them for years. So this wouldn’t be too difficult. What _did_ bother him was the fact that seven people now knew what his left arm looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I really like how this chapter turned out, and I hope y'all do too! I miss chatting in the comments though, leave me something to read if you want! 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! I'll see y'all soon!


	18. Chapter 18

“Any idea what killer you wanna do for this project?” 

Michael’s head snapped up at Rich’s question. “What?” 

“I mean, I assumed we would work together for this profile thing, right?” Rich pulled up a chair in front of Michael’s desk, tossing the project guideline package onto it. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Michael nodded with a smile. 

“You okay, man?” Rich’s brows were slightly furrowed as he crossed his arms and leaned forward. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I dunno, you seem… off.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, your little monologue this morning was one thing.” Rich shrugged. “The you zoned out for like half of lunch before running off to smoke. And just now you were completely off somewhere else.” 

“I’m fine, just tired.” Michael sighed. He would have to pay more attention to his actions at school from now on. 

“Okay…” Rich submitted at Michael’s reluctance. “So, any killers in mind?” 

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Michael flipped through the assignment instructions, refreshing himself on the expectations. 

“I’ve always been fascinated by Dahmer.” Rich offered. 

“Yeah, he seems interesting.” Michael smiled in agreement. 

“Okay, so for research, I’ll take even questions and you take odd?” 

“Sounds good to me.” Michael flipped to question one in his project guideline and pulled out his laptop to get started with gathering information. 

They spent the rest of the period in silence that was only broken by the sounds of clicking on their keyboards, but Michael could feel Rich’s eyes on him every so often. He pretended he didn’t, and just kept his eyes on his screen, jotting down information on their google doc until the bell for fourth rang. 

“I’ll see ya tomorrow!” Michael waved to Rich as they parted at the door. 

“See ya!” Rich waved back and ducked into the crowd of students. 

Comm tech was much the same as psych; Jeremy organized the pictures they had been collecting and Michael worked on building some animations for their slideshow. The two didn’t talk much, only speaking when one of them wanted to ask the opinion of their partner. 

The period flew by, which Michael wasn’t sure if he was grateful for or hated. 

“So I’ll drop you off then go home for a bit to see moms.” Michael thought out loud as he and Jeremy headed for his car. “They’re leaving around six so I’ll head out when they go, sound good?” 

“Perfect.” Jeremy smiled as they tossed their bags in the back and hopped in the front. 

There was idle chatter about nothing in particular on the way to Jeremy’s house, both of the boys acting as if things were back to the way they used to be. Michael appreciated it. He craved this normalcy. He hated that everyone had taken to looking at him like he was a time bomb with a broken countdown display and treating him like a cracked porcelain doll. He just wanted to be treated like a normal person. 

_“But you’re not normal.”_ The voice reminded him. _ “Remember what you did this morning? Everything Dustin said to you was true.”_

_“I know.”_ Michael sighed back as he laughed at some joke Jeremy had made. 

“Thanks for the ride, let me know when you’re heading over?” Jeremy asked as he reached into the backseat for his bag. 

“Of course, see you later!” Michael waved as Jeremy shut the car door and tripped up the steps of his porch. 

Michael heaved a sigh as he reversed out of Jeremy’s driveway and headed for his own house. His moms wouldn’t be home yet, so he would have lots of time to gather his thoughts and plan out an apology once he got back. 

Michael dashed down to his room as soon as he got home, glad to not be intercepted by his mother at the top of the stairs. He dropped his bag and shed his hoodie, deciding a shower was in order when he caught a whiff of the odour contained within it. 

_“When was the last time I showered?”_ He pondered as he collected a clean outfit and headed for the bathroom. 

_“Friday.”_ The voice scoffed at him. _“You’re disgusting. How could Jeremy even stand to be in the same car as you?”_

_“Beats me.”_ Michael shrugged as he blasted whatever playlist he selected first through his Bluetooth speaker and hopped into the near-boiling jet stream of water. He made sure to scrub his left arm thoroughly, trying to hold back the memories of the hospital. 

The whole process took less than ten minutes. The less time he spent without clothes on the better. He couldn’t stand the way his stomach caved in under his ribcage, or how frail and pathetic his legs were. He tried not to look for any length of time, but something in him just needed to see. 

Once he was clean, he quickly got dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and his CREEPS shirt, figuring he should wash his hoodie. He got his laundry together and tossed a load in, figuring he’d be able to get it done before he left for Jeremy’s. It wasn’t until he heard the front door opening that he realized he’d been stalling. Distracting himself from thinking about what he was going to say to his mother. 

Michael listed for a moment, straining to figure out which mom had come home first. He heard a bag being tossed on the stairs, the closet door being slammed, and heavy footsteps crossing the floor to the kitchen, meaning 1.0 was up there. 1.1 was much quieter when she came home, and would always go upstairs as soon as she came in the door so she could change out of her scrubs. 

Michael took a deep, shaking breath and forced himself up off his bed, footsteps quiet as he climbed the stairs in what probably would have looked like slow motion. He lingered in the kitchen doorway for a moment, just watching as his mom put the kettle on and sifted through the boxes of tea in the cupboard. Once she had a bag of chai in her mug, Michael forced himself to speak up. 

“Hey.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. 

His mom jumped and spun around. “Michael! You scared me.” She tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Sweetheart, I-”

“I’m so sorry.” The apology tumbled out of his mouth before he had even decided he was going to speak. 

“Wh…” His mother looked slightly taken aback by his words. “What are you sorry for?” 

“Everything.” Michael shrugged. “Running out and not answering my phone. Worrying you. Making your day shittier than it already was. Yelling at you. Making you mad. Everything.” 

“Michael.” His mom sighed, looking flat out devastated now. She gestured for him to take his seat at the table and he obliged as she took hers. “You don’t have to apologize for any of that. _I’m_ the one who owes _you_ an apology.” 

“But the whole thing was my fault.” Michael hung his head. 

“Why do you think that?” She pressed gently, placing a soft hand on his tight fist. 

“Because I pissed you off to the point where you felt like you had to hit me.” He mumbled. “And I knew your day sucked already, so I shouldn’t have made it worse. Then I didn’t even answer your calls when I ran off.” 

“Michael, no.” His mom squeezed his hand and shook her head firmly. “You are not to blame for anything that happened last night.” 

“But-”

“No buts. First of all, I didn’t feel like I had to hit you. Had I been thinking at all, that never would have been an option. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t have an excuse for what I did, but I can promise you that it will never _ever_ happen again. Under no circumstances should I have _ever_ handled that situation the way I did or lost control like that. Also, it doesn’t matter that I had a bad day, I can’t take that out on you. And you could never make my days worse, honey. You make them so much better. Without fail. And I completely understand why you didn’t answer your phone. I would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes. So, don’t apologize, okay? You let me do that.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweet boy.” His mom rose from her chair and moved to the one next to him and wrapped him in a strong, secure embrace. 

“It’s okay.” He melted into his mom, relief flooding through him at the fact that she wasn’t angry with him. He’d been so dreading this conversation, but it had gone so much smoother than he’d been expecting it to. 

“I love you so much.” She squeezed him tighter and he let her. He would miss their hugs while they were away. 

“I love you too.” 

“Um, why wasn’t I invited to the hug fest?” They both jumped and turned their heads to see mom 1.1 smiling down at them. 

“Please, join.” Michael smiled as his mother removed one arm from him and pulled her close. 

They stayed like that for a minute until 1.0 finally released the other two with a sigh. “We’re all packed, right?” she asked as she pulled 1.1 into her lap. 

“Yep, finished everything last night.” 1.1 nodded, leaning back into her wife. Michael had to smile at the love between his mothers. They really were the perfect parents. 

_“Shame they got such a fuckup of a son.”_

_“Shut up.” _

“Good.” 1.0 smiled. “Is there anything you want for dinner before we leave, Michael?” 

“Ummm….” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, mind racing to find something that wouldn’t nauseate him. 

“Anything you feel like you’ll be able to eat. Name it and it’s yours.” 1.1 smiled gently. 

“Sushi?” It had been the only solid food he’d found himself actually wanting to consume in the past couple of years. 

“Perfect.” His moms’ grins spread wider at his response. 

“Just let me get changed.” 1.1 unwrapped her wife’s arms from her waist and stood, gesturing to her scrubs. 

“Me too.” Michael looked down at his old sweatpants, covered in paint, grass stains, and dotted with holes. 

“Me three.” mom 1.0 chuckled at her dress pants and blouse. 

They all laughed before wandering off to their respective floors and changing into more suitable outfits. Michael threw on a pair of jeans, 1.0 exchanged her blouse for a knit tunic, and 1.1 discarded her scrubs in favour of leggings, a black tank top, and a multicoloured cardigan. 

“Shall we?” 1.1 grabbed her car keys as Michael appeared from the basement. 

“We shall.” He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff fluff fluff :) Of course, it can't last long, hold onto your butts! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I appreciate y'all! Leave me a comment if you want <3 See y'all next time!


	19. Chapter 19

Dinner was nice. The family of three was tucked away in a corner booth to laugh and chat at Michael’s favourite all you can eat sushi place. His mothers were beaming by the time they requested the bill, seeing as Michael had managed an order of each of negi maki and avocado cucumber roll, as well as a few bites of various dishes his mothers had gotten. It was more than he’d been able to eat in a long, long while, and he wasn’t even feeling nauseated by the amount of food he had put away. 

“We should come for sushi more often.” Mom 1.0 smiled as she put her credit card back in her wallet. 

“Maybe.” Michael smirked back, feeling surprisingly content at the fullness in his stomach. 

“I’m proud of you.” 1.1 wrapped her arm around Michael’s shoulder as they left the restaurant. 

“All I did was eat.” Michael shrugged sheepishly, feeling a slight tinge of pink rising in his cheeks. 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She gave him a squeeze. “It’s no small feat considering how you’ve been feeling lately.” 

“I guess.” 

“I _know_.” 1.0 smiled and took his hand. “Let us be proud mamas, okay?” 

“Okay.” He nodded, a genuine smile crossing his face. “I’m gonna miss you guys.” He initiated the group hug when they reached their parked cars. 

“We’ll miss you more, sweetheart.” 1.0 planted a kiss on the top of his head and held him tight. 

“We’ll message you every day and send pictures.” 1.1 assured, holding on even tighter than 1.0. Michael was constricted by his mothers’ arms to the point that his lungs couldn’t fully expand, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t get a moms hug for another three weeks. 

_“What are you, five?” _

_“Shut up. I love my moms, is that a crime?” _

_“No but it’s awfully childish. What teenager hugs his parents in public like this? You’re such a baby.” _

_“I knew this already. Leave me alone.” _

“We talked to Jeremy’s dad and he says if you need anything to let him know.” 1.1 continued. “And he’s perfectly fine with you and Jeremy doing as may sleepovers as you want.” 

“Just remember to keep up with your school work.” 1.0 cut in. “And try your best with the sleeping and eating.” 

“I will.” Michael gave a final squeeze to his parents before letting go. 

“We should get going…” 1.1 sighed reluctantly. It was clear that she didn’t want to leave Michael alone, but he wouldn’t ruin their trip. They deserved it so much. They deserved a break from him. 

“I love you guys.” Michael smiled as he unlocked his car. 

“We love you more!” His moms called back in unison as they climbed into their vehicle which was already packed with their luggage. 

“Have fun!” Michael waved and watched them pull out of the parking lot before he climbed into his own car.

**Player 1 (5:54pm)** Just finished dinner with the moms, be at your place in 10 or so :) 

**Player 2 (5:54pm)** okaaaaaay see you soon! 

Michael smiled as he tossed his phone in the cupholder and reversed out of the restaurant parking lot. The drive to Jeremy’s was silent, he didn’t even find himself putting a CD in or tuning the radio to his favourite oldies station. He just existed while he drove, mind blank as his muscle memory took over and allowed him to arrive safely at Jeremy’s a few minutes later. It was nice to have a moment of pure nothingness. No voice, no music, no talking, nothing. Too bad it couldn’t last.

Jeremy was on the porch when Michael pulled into the driveway. He smiled in response to Jeremy’s wave as he maneuvered next to Mr. Heere’s old SUV and put his car in park. 

“Hey!” Jeremy called as soon as the car door opened. “Ready for Apocalypse of the Damned?” 

“You know I am!” Michael shouldered his backpack and locked his car before following Jeremy into the house. They waved briefly to Mr. Heere as they passed him in the kitchen and headed down to the basement. 

Jeremy had left everything from the previous night splayed across the floor as it had been when the boys had left for school that morning, the only difference being he had re-inflated the air mattress to its full capacity. 

“You moved the consoles down here?” Michael noticed as he tossed his bag on the couch and flopped onto the mattress. 

“Yeah, dad’s only condition for these three weeks is if you’re here overnight we’re down here.” Jeremy chuckled. “He’s complained the past few times we’ve played up there that we’re too loud.” 

“You _do_ get awfully excited.” Michael jabbed Jeremy in the ribs. 

“Me?!” Jeremy shot back with a gentle shove to Michael’s shoulder. “What about you?” 

“I don’t know what you could _possibly_ be referring to!” Michael gasped dramatically with a hand to his chest. “I always keep my cool. Especially when we perfectly execute the tag out smash method I coined.” 

“Oh yeah, _super_ cool.” Jeremy shook his head at the memory of both of them jumping up and down like a couple of kindergarteners when Michael’s method had lead them to victory against the boss at the end of the Cafetorium. 

“So are we gonna play this thing or what?” Michael asked as their laughter finally died down. 

“Hell yeah.” Jeremy scrambled to insert the disk and tossed Michael his controller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet :) looking back, I probably should have combined this chapter and the previous, but whatever I guess. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment if you wanna :) See y'all next time <3


	20. Chapter 20

“How are you today, Michael?” Dr. Evans smiled as she drifted into her chair. 

“Good, actually.” Michael smiled a genuine smile. 

“That’s good to hear!” she beamed, unable to recall if Michael had ever said he was feeling anything other than ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ when he’d visited. “Any particular reason why?” 

“Well, I stayed at Jeremy’s last night and it was kind of like old times, you know?” He thought back to their easy win at AOTD level ten and smashing the NPC’s in Mario Party Eight (for Wii!). “We just played video games and hung out, which put me in a good mood. And that mood carried over.” He’d had a substitute in English, and the rest of his classes were work periods, so he hadn’t had to deal with any sort of stupidity aside from the idiots who didn’t know how to walk down a hallway. 

“Well that’s great.” Dr. Evans smiled. 

They chatted for the rest of the session about Michael’s moms being on vacation and how he would deal with their absence, putting plans in place in case of panic attacks or episodes. 

“Well,” Dr. Evans glanced at the clock, “our time is almost up, but I wanted to ask: how’s the short story coming?” 

“Short story?” Michael pondered before the pieces clicked. “Oh! That… yeah, um… I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.” 

“That’s okay, have you given it any thought at all?” 

“Not really, no.” Michael shook his head sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, no worries. However, before our next session, I would like you to have at least started it if possible.” 

“I’ll try.” Michael nodded with a smile as he pushed out of his chair. “See you on Tuesday!” 

“Have a good weekend!” 

Michael left the office in a good mood. It was nice to be in a good mood. He hadn’t been in a good mood since… well… he couldn’t remember. Once in the car, he pulled out his phone to see a message from Jeremy. 

**Player 2 (5:13pm) ** You coming over again tonight? Or want me to come over? 

**Player 1 (5:33pm) ** I think I’m just gonna chill tonight, that okay? 

**Player 2 (5:33pm) ** Absolutely! Whatever’s good for you buddy :) 

**Player 1 (5:33pm) ** Thanks, see ya tomorrow morning <3 

**Player 2 (5:34pm) ** Let me know if you wanna game or anything, see ya! <# 

**Player 2 (5:34pm) ** <3********

Michael just chuckled as he tossed his phone aside and pressed play on the Van Halen CD that was still in his player. He jammed quietly on his way home, considering the homework he had. If he finished his essay tonight he would be able to skip or go to the library during first period the next day. And his outline was finished, he just needed to flesh everything out. If he really wanted to get ahead he could do the practical for comp sci with the spare parts in his desk. Well, he could probably just use an old motherboard of his with a few tweaks and added labels. He’d finished his research for psych and was just waiting on Rich to collect his, and comm tech was much the same. 

_“You’re home.” _

Michael shook his head, oblivious to the fact that he had pulled into the driveway and was just idling in front of his house. 

_“And you thought you were having a good day.”_ The voice snickered as Michael pulled the keys from the ignition and slammed his car door. 

“I’m fine. I was thinking. Fuck off.” 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o. 

Three hours later Michael was in his rainbow beanbag chair, exchanging his magic mushrooms for the blue potion that he wouldn’t need to defeat Gyorg for the twenty-seventh time. His essay was completed (the first draft at least) and he’d found a motherboard that was rough looking enough to pass as a beginner’s attempt (really it was just old and he hadn’t been very gentle with it). 

Just as Link fell through the hole in the floor that would bring him to Gyorg, Michael heard his phone ping and glanced down to see a message from Rich in the group chat that housed just them and Jeremy. 

**Dwight (8:46pm) ** DBD? 

Michael ignored the chat for a moment, focussing on firing his arrows in the right direction and not falling into the fish-infested waters. He decided against using Zora at all; the shield attack was too OP for his liking after he’d defeated Gyorg so many times. He liked the challenge of taking him down as a human. 

Once Gyorg finally keeled over, Michael turned his attention to his phone. 

** Claudette (8:47pm) ** I’m in

** Dwight (8:47pm) ** sick

** Claudette (8:48pm) ** Party invites are sent. You joining Michael? 

** Dwight (8:51pm) ** @Jake u comin?

** Claudette (8:53pm) ** Miiiccchhhaaaeeeellllll

** Jake (9:07pm) ** Sorry I was killing Gyorg lol I’m coming now

Michael tossed his phone and saved his game before switching over to PlayStation and plugging his headphones into his controller. 

“Hello, friends!” Michael smiled as he hopped in the party and loaded up Dead by Daylight. 

“Michael!” Rich cheered. 

“Thank god!” Jeremy sighed. “I thought you were gonna leave me alone with him!” 

“Hey!” 

“Oh come on you know Michael and I carry your ass through this game.” 

“Hey, that’s-!”

“Incredibly true?” Michael cut in with a chuckle as he sent out survive with friends invitations. 

“I was gonna say-!”

“Exactly what Michael said?” Jeremy tried not to laugh out loud as his Claudette loaded into Michael’s lobby, Rich’s Dwight not far behind. 

“Okay fine!” Rich snapped but he was laughing. “I suck, happy?” 

“Very.” Michael nodded as he readied up, sending them into the ether to find a fourth survivor and a killer. 

After three Hillbillies, a Leatherface, two Nurses, a Hag, and far too many matches taking place on Autohaven Wreckers, Jeremy was yawning through every sentence. They ended the party with a decent win streak (Michael got out alive six of seven rounds, Jeremy four, and Rich three), and a chorus of “goodnight’s” and “see you guys tomorrow’s.” 

Michael stretched and contemplated wandering to the kitchen to see if anything seemed edible. 

“Don’t fuck up a good day.” He whispered to himself as he powered everything down and got ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lulls you into a false sense of security with three days of happiness and good times* 
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone! Leave me a comment to read, it's only fair! ;) I appreciate y'all! See ya next time <3


	21. Chapter 21

_“What goes up must come down.”_ Michael sighed to himself as he pushed away from the cafeteria table and headed for the bathroom at as fast a walk he could without looking too suspicious. The solitary slice of pizza he’d forced down his throat minutes earlier was fighting back, and he didn’t feel like spilling his guts all over the table. _“Or vice versa”_

Once past the windows separating the caf from the hallway, Michael bolted. Luckily the hall was deserted and he had a straight shot to the bathroom. He crashed through the door, barely getting in front of the nearest toilet before the contents of his stomach exploded forth. 

“Fuck me…” Michael whispered after the dry heaving stopped. He wiped his mouth with the pathetic excuse for toilet paper and flushed, taking a few deep breaths before considering standing up. There was no way his knees would be able to take his weight in his trembling state. 

“So you’re bulimic now, too?” 

Michael froze, one foot under him, a hand on the toilet seat for balance. His head slowly turned to meet Dustin’s mocking glare. Fuck. He hadn’t closed the stall door. 

“You just get more and more pathetic every time I see you.” Dustin sneered, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the wall outside of what had become Michael’s prison. 

“Fuck off.” Michael tried to snap but his voice was raw and weak after retching. 

“You’re not worth my time.” Dustin chuckled and slammed his foot into Michael’s side, sending him crashing into the porcelain throne beside him with a grunt. “Go cut yourself or something.” 

Michael grasped at his ribs, breaths coming quick and short from the pain of the impact, listening for the closing of the bathroom door before making any sort of move. 

_“Are you capable of doing anything right?”_

_“What the fuck did I do?”_ Michael let his head fall back against the cold brick wall as he caught his breath. 

_“Oh I don’t know, be an utter waste of a human body maybe?”_

_“Fuck off.”_ He refused to listen to the voice any longer and just sat there on the incredibly uncomfortable tile floor, waiting for the ache in his side to die down. 

“Michael?” His head snapped up at the sound of Rich’s voice. “Why are you on the floor?” 

“Stomach hurts…” Michael sighed back, glad to have an excuse as to why his arm was hugged tight around his waist. 

“Did you puke?” Rich leaned on the wall outside the stall, giving Michael space. He just nodded in return. “Well, let’s go to the nurse then.” 

“I’m fine.” Michael countered as he tried to drag himself to his feet. However, something must have gotten jostled the wrong way when he’d been kicked, because Michael felt a fresh wave of nausea and found his head in the toilet again. 

“That doesn’t look ‘fine’ to me.” Rich shook his head once Michael was done heaving. “Why’d you come to school if you’re sick?” 

“I was fine this morning.” Michael grumbled through gritted teeth. He really had been, too. A few hours of sleep and a quiet house had really kept his good mood going until lunch. 

“Fair enough.” Rich shrugged as he offered Michael his hands and hauled him off the ground. “You okay?” Rich gave Michael’s hands a squeeze when he noticed the cold sweat the trembling extremities were coated in. 

“Yeah.” Michael shrugged, trying not to sway. He didn’t need Rich worrying about him too. 

“Alright…” Rich sighed before he finally released Michael’s hands. “Let’s go.” 

“I’ve probably spent more time in the nurse’s office this week than most people at this school ever will.” Michael mused as he walked close to the wall, hoping his shiver wasn’t showing too badly. 

“Probably.” Rich smirked. “Maybe it’s a sign. You need to take it easy.” 

“Well it’s Friday. I’ve got two days to recoup.” 

“You’d better actually take the two days.” 

“Why do you think I wouldn’t?” 

“Are you really asking that, Mr. ‘I put everyone before me because I’m just that kind of a person and I make sure everyone else is okay all the time but never stop to think about if I’m okay’?” 

“Am I really like that?” Michael wondered. 

“You are really like that.” Rich chuckled. 

“Well then…” 

“Please, just… take it easy this weekend?” Rich smiled gently up at Michael as he held the door to Lydia’s office open. 

“I will.” Michael agreed, leaning on the doorframe to keep himself upright while entering the office. 

“Michael, what’s wrong?” Lydia was on her feet in an instant, guiding him onto his usual lumpy mattress with Rich close behind. 

“I found him on the floor in the bathroom puking his guts out.” Rich jumped in before Michael could say anything. 

“Michael…” Lydia sighed and held out her hand. Michael took the hint and deposited his headphones and glasses atop her open palm. “Thanks, Rich.” She smiled as she placed Michael’s belongings on the table next to him. 

“I’ll go grab your bag.” Rich offered when Lydia began to shuffle around in her closet. “What do you want me to tell the others?” 

“The truth.” Michael tugged his hood up with a shrug. 

“Okay.” Rich nodded. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Lay down.” Lydia placed the trash can next to Michael’s cot and covered him with a blanket when he followed her instruction. “How much water have you had today?” 

“One and a half bottles.” Michael curled up on his side, trying to ease the still prominent ache in his ribs. 

“What have you eaten?” 

“Coffee for breakfast and a slice of pizza at lunch before I felt sick.” 

“Try and sleep, okay?” Lydia gave him a quick half smile. 

“Am I permitted to listen to music?”

“Go for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, it appears that the angst train has arrived safely and is back in the station! 
> 
> I'm starting a new job tomorrow, so, unfortunately, I won't be able to update as often as I have been this past couple of weeks :( but I hope you guys will stick around through the _rough_ update 'schedule' that is to come! 
> 
> Thank y'all so much for reading, leave me a comment if you want! I'll be back at some point! <3


	22. Chapter 22

“Have you moved at all since Friday?” Michael flinched and rolled over to see Jeremy standing over his bed. 

“Hey.” He reached for his glasses and made sure his left arm stayed put under the covers. He should have expected Jeremy would come by; he always seemed to show up when Michael was in need. It was nice, but short sleeves and visitors was not Michael’s favourite combination. “What are you doing here?” 

“Checking on you.” Jeremy grabbed Michael’s hoodie from the floor and tossed it to him before turning his back. He knew how his best friend felt about showing off his scars. “Hence my question: have you moved since Friday?” 

“Not much.” Michael admitted once his hoodie was on and his sleeves were down. “Mostly just for water and to use the bathroom.” 

“Still feeling sick?” Jeremy sat on the edge of the bed once the sound of shuffling fabric disappeared. 

“Better.” Michael nodded. “Sleeping helped.” 

“You slept?” 

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much been in and out since I got home on Friday.” 

“Have you eaten anything?” 

“What do you think?” Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m getting over a stomach bug.” 

“Are you though?” Jeremy pressed, eyes glued to his knees. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael leaned ever so slightly away from his best friend. 

“Nothing forget it I just… No. No never mind.” 

“Jeremy.” Michael’s tone was low and sure. 

“I…” Jeremy’s voice faltered when he met Michael’s eyes. “I don’t know okay? It was stupid. It just came out. You were sick and that’s that.” 

“Okay…” Michael sighed. “Since you’re here, do you want to play something?” He shook it off, choosing to believe Jeremy’s fumbling lie.

“Sure!” Jeremy quickly took the out and hopped over to Michael’s game shelf. “What do you have in mind?” 

_“You’re getting worse at hiding these things.”_ Michael tried to ignore the voice as he settled into his rainbow beanbag chair and waited for Wave Race: Blue Storm to load up. 

_ “I know…” _

_ “Do you know what that means?” _

_ “Leave me alone.” _

_ “It means more people are going to figure you out.” _

_ “Fuck off.” _

_ “And when people start to figure you out, they won’t want to be around you.” _

_ “Seriously fuck off.” _

_ “Who wants to be around the angsty emo kid that cuts himself and cries every thirty seconds over nothing? Who wants to be around the kid that panics when things get too loud? Who wants to be around the kid that has to take pills to keep up an appearance of normalcy? WHO?” _

“Michael?” Jeremy’s voice somehow cut through the voice. 

“Yeah?” He shook his head slightly and looked up at Jeremy. 

“What’s wrong?” Jeremy reached out tentatively and placed a gentle hand on Michael’s knee. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? You just stopped halfway through the race.” 

“Did I?” Sure enough, he had. He was just idling in the middle of the water, bobbling up and down on his Jet Ski. “Oh.” He moved to continue the lap but Jeremy grabbed the Game Cube controller out of his hand and set it on the floor in front of him. 

“What’s up with you?” He asked gently. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Michael…” He hated pushing Michael to spill his guts, to admit that there was something wrong with him. But if Jeremy wanted to help, he needed to know what was happening in his best friend’s head. 

“Seriously Jer, I’m-” 

“Stop denying it.” He didn’t exactly snap, but silence settled upon the room all the same. 

Michael tensed, his gaze snapping down to his controller while the cheerful strings and percussion of Wave Race grated against his ears. 

_“He’s right you know.”_ that voice cackled. _“there’s something wrong with you. You’re fucked up.”_

“No, I-” Jeremy stumbled, catching the glimpse of hurt that flashed on Michael’s face. “Michael that’s- that’s not how it was… that came out wrong I meant to- I meant…” But he didn’t know what he meant. And he was left grabbing for a rescue line that wasn’t there. Head bobbing in the waves while he searched for a life preserver that wasn’t coming. “Michael, I’m-”

“Just don’t.” Michael flinched away when Jeremy tried to grab his hand. “I’m well aware I’m not normal.” 

“Don’t say tha-”

“Let me finish!” He felt tears stabbing behind his eyes but wouldn’t let them fall. “Goddammit for once just left me fucking finish.” 

“I’m sorry…” Jeremy breathed after a second of silence. “Continue… Please…” 

“I’m not normal. I’m just not. And that’s just the way it is. And the way it’s going to be.” Both boys were surprised when Michael’s voice came out clear and controlled. “Just accept it and stop trying to make me think I am because I don’t feel like lying to myself when I already have to lie to everyone else in my life. Don’t try to tell me I’m normal when all is well and good, but insist I’m a freak when I have a panic attack. Just don’t, okay? Don’t change your view of me based on what fits your narrative day to day. I’m not fucking normal. But freaking out is my normal. It’s my okay. So unless I say I’m not okay, just pretend everything is fine. Can you do that for me? Please? I need it.”

“I never said you were a freak…” Jeremy cleared his voice after he was sure Michael was done. His eyes brimmed with tears Michael wouldn’t see, but could probably hear. “I don’t change my view of you based on what fits my narrative. I’m so sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I have. It’s never been my intention. I just… I worry about you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think of you as the same old Michael.” 

“Jeremy.” Michael sighed, not bothering to look up. “I already have two moms to do that worrying. I don’t need a third.” 

They sat in silence for a moment longer, Jeremy not knowing what to say, Michael dreading the outcome of what he was going to say next. 

“Jer I…” He took a breath, hating that he was actually about to do what he was about to do. “I think it would be best if you went home…” 

“Okay…” Jeremy’s voice was hardly a whisper as he stood up from his beanbag chair, every fiber of his being begging him to stay with Michael and make sure he was okay. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself for making them fight :( 
> 
> So. I may or may not have cranked out about seven chapters in a couple of hours last night, and all of them are _definitely_ super angsty. Get ready for that! 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading and sticking with me all this time! I hope you enjoyed! I'll see y'all next time!


	23. Chapter 23

“Calm down. Calm down. Calm. Down.” Michael timed his commands with the rhythmic sound of his head banging against the sink cabinet. His trembling fingers were wrapped in his hair, not steady enough to roll a joint or even light his bong. 

_ “Hey. Guess what?” _ The voice chuckled, somehow breaking through the sound of Michael’s gasping breaths and pounding heart. 

“What.” He snapped out loud. 

_ “You’re just Michael in the bathroom by yourself again.” _

***** 

_ “Move it!” Michael flinched slightly at Jeremy’s demand. He’d never once lashed out at Michael to this degree. Really, he’d never lashed out at Michael at all…_

_Michael swallowed the choking feeling in his throat before he managed to squeak out his weak retort. “Or you’ll what?” _

_“Get out of my way…” Jeremy hesitated. He wasn’t meeting Michael’s eyes. “Loser.” _

_ _That word. That fucking word. It hit him like a bat to the stomach, made him stumble back to let the person who used to be his best friend pass by. The door slammed behind Jeremy, drowned out by the music that pounded almost as loudly as Michael’s heart. _ _

_Loser…”_ Michael clutched at his chest and practically collapsed onto the edge of the bathtub as the word echoed in his skull. _“Loser. LOSER!”_

_ _“Hello!” Jeremy’s voice was interrupted by someone pounding on the door that he must have locked at some point. “Some of us have to pee!” _ _

_ _Michael’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape. All he could see were empty beer bottles and a filthy mirror. No windows. No way out. Suddenly, his eyes landed on the heaping trashcan, and he spotted his excuse. “I’m having my period!” He called back, glad that his voice raised itself up about an octave when he couldn’t breathe. _ _

_ _“Take your time, honey.” The voice on the other side of the door called back, leaving Michael to his own devices. _ _

_ _“Calm down.” He begged himself through ragged, shallow breaths, “You’ve always been a loser. You know that. You’ve known that since kindergarten. Calm the fuck down!” _ _

_“So what?” _the voice berated with a cackle. _ “You’re just going to hang out in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall? Which you weren’t even invited to by the way.” _

__ “Shut up, I don’t need you right now.” _ _

_ “But really. Would anyone even noticed if you didn’t come out? Or if you just disappeared?” _

__ Why did Jeremy have to ditch him? Why did he have to leave him to be some creep in a bathroom at a party he hadn’t been invited to? Why did he have to leave him so that the girl who knocked on the door would think he was taking the longest piss known to man? He couldn’t leave the bathroom and just stand in a corner on his phone like he usually did during social gatherings. Because when he did that, he was always texting Jeremy. He couldn’t pretend to text. What was the point anyway? He didn’t know anyone at the party. No one knew him. He. Wasn’t. Invited. _ _

__ “Jeremy…” Michael whined to himself. One hand rubbing awkwardly at his collar bone while his knee bounced uncontrollably. Everything had been fine when Jeremy was his best friend. They were a pair. They’d been a pair for_ twelve years_. And he’d just up and ditched Michael. _ _

_“So why’d you go and fuck it up?” _

__ “It is _NOT_ my fault.” Michael napped back. “It’s not my fault he’s not here.” _ _

_ _ Michael continued to sit on the edge of the tub, trying to force his lungs to cooperate and his mind to slow down. The tremor in his fingers was slowly spreading to the rest of his body. He longed for some way to calm down, but nothing around him would do any good. His headphones were in the car; why he hadn’t brought them in, he wasn’t completely sure. There was only trash surrounding him. All he could think about was the fact that he was just Michael in the bathroom by himself. No Jeremy. Just Michael. _ _

_ _A knock on the door brought him back to the present for a moment. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on the edge of the tub, but it had to have been a while for someone to come knocking again. _ _

_ _“Yo dude, you done in there?” A voice called. “All the bathrooms in the place are taken, let me in!” _ _

_ _“No!” Michael snapped back before he could think better of it. “No, you can’t come in!” _ _

_ _“Whatever, freak.” _ _

_ _“Just wait it out.” He whispered to himself as he picked at the grout on the edge of the tub, trying to busy himself. “Calm down and wait it out. People will start leaving and you can sneak out. No one knows you. You’re flying solo now. You don’t need to worry about anyone but you.” _ _

_“Pathetic. You’re hiding while he’s out there having a good time?” _

_ _“Well he seems to be ignoring all of our history and everything I’ve done for him.” _ _

_“He’s better off. That thing may as well erase his memory. You’re getting replaced.” _

_ _“I know. He’ll find a newer cooler version of me and I’ll be obsolete.” _ _

_“You already are.” _

_ _“OOOOHHHHH I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODYYYYYYYY!” A very clearly drunk girl startled Michael when she bounced off the bathroom door. “I WANNA FEEL THE Heat with some….” _ _

_“Who are you gonna make fun of her with now?” _

_ _If it was even possible, Michael’s stomach sunk even lower as he realized he would have to make fun of drunk girls alone from now on. He started to regret the beers he’d snagged as the room spun and his stomach twisted into even tighter knots. He tried to hold back the tears, wishing he could just refuse to cry, but they persistently poked at the backs of his eyes, stinging beyond belief. _ _

_ _“If anyone asks, just blame it on weed.” He tried to reassure himself but failed miserably. “Or say you got something in your eye.” But who would ask? No one knew him. The chances that anyone would say anything to him were so low, he didn’t really know why he was even considering such lies. _ _

_ _When the third knock came, he gasped and choked on his own breath. _ _

_ _“Get out of there!” More of them would start to shout at him before long. He just knew it. _ _

_ _More knocking, it sounded like multiple sets of hands. _ _

_ _“Fucking hell… Yeah, I’ll be out soon!” He somehow managed through the spasmodic lack of rhythm his lungs were stuck in. _ _

_ _KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_ _

_ _“Jeremy why did you have to leave me here alone?” _ _

_ _KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_ _

_ _He felt like he was in the middle of battle zone. Fighting not only with the enemies outside the door, but himself as well. _ _

_ _CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG_ _

_ _Someone was using something that wasn’t their fists to knock on the door. Michael felt the pressure building up in his chest as he feared the door would cave in. _ _

__BANG BANG BANG BANG_ _

_ _Why had he even bothered showing up? It was a huge mistake. Had he really thought Jeremy would hear him out? After not speaking to or even acknowledging his existence for weeks, had Michael really thought Jeremy would just turn around and listen to what he had to say? _ _

_ _SPLASH _ _

_ _He didn’t remember getting up and going to the sink, but he suddenly had cool water running down his face and neck. _ _

_ _SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH _ _

_ _He threw more water in his face. The cold helped him focus. He felt slightly better as his heart began to slow. He felt like he could open the door and make a run for it, but suddenly, there was no more knocking. _ _

_ _Michael’s breath picked up as he realized nobody-not a single soul-cared for him outside of that bathroom door. He leaned back against the slab of wood and slid down until he was slumped in a pile on the ground, aching and yearning for a different time, one where Jeremy wasn’t an asshole controlled by a supercomputer. One where they were playing video games in Michael’s basement. One where Jeremy was on the floor with him, coaching him through his panic attack. _ _

_ _He snatched a beer bottle off the ground next to him, holding onto it in a vice grip, needing something-anything-to keep him grounded. He caught his reflection in the glass and choked again, unable to deny that he was just at a party, crying in the bathroom, by himself. _ _

_ _Could there be a sadder sight? He surely couldn’t think of one. _ _

_ _“What a fucking heinous night!” He tried to mock Jeremy’s use of the uncommon word but ended up sobbing into the beer bottle instead. “God I should have just stayed home and watched crappy cable porn or something.” _ _

_ “Come on.”_ The voice scoffed._ “We both know you should have just offed yourself.”_

_ _“At this point, I wish I’d never been born.” _ _

_ _For the first time, Michael felt truly alone. He was a loner. He couldn’t even make friends with the other stoners at the school. He couldn’t count how many times people had made fun of his car or called him a loser. He truly was flying solo now. ___ _

_ _ _ _No one at school knew him. His moms didn’t even know him. Jeremy hardly knew him. No one in the world knew Michael. And he thought he’d liked it that way. But as he shook and gasped for air and begged his mind to just shut up for one, he realized that he didn’t want to be by himself. He wanted Jeremy to be there with him. He wanted his moms to hug him and tell him things would get better, He wanted anyone at the school to come into the bathroom and ask if he was okay. He needed to not just be Michael in the bathroom all by himself. At most, all anyone outside the door knew about him was his name. And for the first time ever, that bothered him. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Awesome party…” He whispered to himself through a hiccupping sob. “I’m so glad I came.” _ _ _ _

_ _ __A sudden sting in Michael’s palm cleared his mind briefly. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but when he looked down, he realized the beer bottle he’d been clutching wasn’t there anymore. Instead, he had a pile of glass shards squeezed between his fingers. Blood ran down his wrist and he squeezed tighter, begging for his mind to slow. But the sting didn’t deepen as much as he needed it to._ _ _ _

_ _ _“Don’t do it!” _His own voice screamed from the very back of his mind._ “Don’t go back to this!” _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Shut up.” He told himself and yanked up his sleeve. His scars were mostly healed over. Some still looked red and raised, even six months later. They were the ones that had gotten infected. He’d sworn up and down that he would never go back to his old habit, but the sting in his palm just felt so damn good… before he knew it, LOSER was scrawled across his forearm in bold, capital letters. The burn was stronger than he remembered it; probably due to the jagged edge of the broken glass and remanence of beer. He stared for a while, feeling his heart slow and his lungs relax as the blood flowed and he focussed on that word. Loser. It was just a word. A word he’d never taken offense to. He didn’t have to. It was just a word. Just. A. word. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _When he’d finally calmed down, Michael realized that the noise in his head hadn’t been replaced by the noise of the party. The bass thumping and screaming of high schoolers had disappeared. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“What the fuck…?” He wondered, dragging himself to his feet. Was the room hazy? He shook that off and blamed it on the lack of oxygen he’d been dealing with for the past few minutes. He pressed his ear to the door to listen for whatever was going on outside of his haven. Maybe the cops had come to break up the party? If that was the case, he needed to get out of there before his moms found out he’d been involved in any capacity. He couldn’t hear anything in the hallway beyond the door, so he figured it must be safe to make a run for it. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Michael finally mustered up the courage to leave the bathroom. He clicked the lock and opened the door the tiniest bit. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Shit!” He coughed and sputtered as smoke poured into the bathroom. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Is someone else up here?!” A voice he recognized as Jake Dillinger, captain of the football team, resident of the house he was currently in, kid who tormented Michael on occasion, cut through the smoke as Michael dropped to his knees. Everything he’d learned about fire safety in third grade suddenly came back to him and he grabbed a cloth off the floor. It was already damp; he wasn’t sure what with, nor did he really care to know. He pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose before replying. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Yeah!” Michael called back, going into the strongest fight or flight mode he’d ever experienced. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“This way!” Jake appeared down the hall, barely visible through the thick black smoke. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Michael scrambled to his feet but stayed low, making a mad dash towards the room Jake’s head had retreated into. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“We gotta jump, man!” Michael skidded into the room just as Jake unceremoniously dropped someone out the window. The guy looked to be in pretty bad shape, covered in second and third-degree burns. “Come on!” He must have been hesitating, considering Jake suddenly grabbed him and shoved him out the second story window. He crashed into the bushes below, inches from the raw, oozing skin of the guy he now recognized as Rich Goranski. What little breath he had in him was forced out of his lungs on impact, and he felt a pounding ache spreading from the back of his head to his tailbone. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He just lay there for a moment, trying to regain his breath, until he saw Jake plummeting down. He rolled aside, not for any reason really, considering Jake hit the ground about five feet ahead of him. A sickening snap and a gruff scream of pain accompanied the thump of Jake’s landing, and Michael’s head started racing again. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Somehow, he got to his feet and bolted. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He couldn’t tell if he was in pain. He just ran. He ran past the herd of students on the sidewalk. He didn’t notice the sirens screaming towards the house. He just ran the two blocks to his car, jumped in, and floored it home._ _ _ _

_ _ _***** _ _ _

_ _ _“Fuck…” Michael shook his head to clear the horrible memory of that night and sighed as he stared down at his arm. Blood was flowing freely again, puddling on the grey tile by his feet. “It was almost gone…” He stared. And the word LOSER stared back at him._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... think I might hate this chapter. I've never been good at writing around existing stories. Let me know how I did in the comments! I'd love to hear what you guys think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! See y'all next time <3


	24. Chapter 24

“Is everything okay between you and Jeremy?” Rich caught Michael off guard with his question after the class had been instructed to work on their serial killer reports. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Michael smirked and shook his head. 

“Well…” Rich hesitated, reluctant to unearth anything too personal. “You didn’t come to school yesterday or Monday, which I assumed was because you were still sick, but you guys didn’t show up together this morning. Plus I saw you in the library during second, and you never showed up in the caf at lunch.” 

“Well, Monday I was still sick, and I took Tuesday because I’m ahead in all of my classes and wanted to make sure I was feeling a hundred percent before I came back.” Michael shrugged, making sure to keep a neutral-if not happy-expression as he spoke. “Jeremy slept through his alarm this morning so he had his dad drop him off so he wouldn’t hold me up. I went to the library during second because I’m done the assignment for this week in comp sci and wanted to polish my English essay without distractions. And I went to the mall at lunch to grab a pack of Orbitz from my soda guy.” 

“You sure you’re okay?” Rich gnawed on his bottom lip and leaned forward onto Michael’s desk. “You seem… off lately.” 

“I’m fine,” Michael assured with as big a smile as he could muster. 

Rich let the answer hang for a moment, not sure if he could figure out a way to press deeper without scaring Michael off. “Okay…” He finally submitted and moved to grab his laptop from his bag. “Just… If you ever need anything… You can talk to me if you want.” 

“I feel like I should be the one telling you that.” Michael winked as he opened his own computer and pulled up their report. 

“Well how about we have an open invitation?” Rich chuckled. “If either of us needs to get something off our chest, the other will listen. Sound good?” 

“Sounds good.” Michael agreed with a grin. “So for the trial portion of this, I was thinking…” 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Michael huffed and strung his headphones around his neck reluctantly when he saw Jeremy leaning on his car. 

“What?” He called out when he was twenty feet away. “You want a ride or something?” 

“No, I want to talk.” Jeremy had smartly placed himself against the driver’s side door, effectively blocking Michael from getting into his vehicle and blowing him off as he had been all day. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Michael grunted as he tossed his bag in the back seat and stared Jeremy down. Jeremy shrunk back ever so slightly at Michael’s cold glare but refused to unstick himself from the car door. 

“Then just listen, okay?” 

“Fine.” Michael crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, looking at Jeremy expectantly. 

“I’m sorry.” Jeremy jammed his hands in his pockets but held eye contact with Michael. He really was sorry. “I’m sorry for making those offhanded comments. I’m sorry for pushing you to tell me things you’re not ready to tell me, or trying to get you to tell me things that don’t exist. I shouldn’t insist on you admitting you’re not okay when you’re trying to be. I shouldn’t hover like a third mom. I need to understand that you need space sometimes, but… I would also appreciate it if you could try and see it from my perspective. And your moms’ perspectives. We’re watching someone we love suffer, and it’s hard for us not to worry. I know that sounds cheesy and sappy as hell but… I can’t think of a less cinematic way to phrase it so… I’m sorry for being overbearing and demanding answers, please don’t be mad.” 

“Jeremy…” Michael sighed after a few seconds of silence. “Name one time before now that I’ve ever been mad at you. Ever. In our twelve years of friendship, have I ever actually been mad at you?” 

“At Jakes party you said-”

“Nope.” Michael shook his head and took a step forward. “I had an angry monologue planned but as soon as I saw your goddamn face I just couldn’t yell at you because I knew it wasn’t your fault that you were being an asshole. I pushed you away when you tried to hug me because I wanted to be mad but what I really wanted to do was hold on because I missed you so fucking much for those two weeks. I was furious with the squip for making you ignore me, but I knew you couldn’t control it. It physically blocked me out from your vision. How the hell could I be mad at that? Even when you told me it was disabled and you blew me off, I wasn’t mad. I was hurt, yeah. But I was never mad.” 

“I’m sorry… I don’t see your point here…” Jeremy felt a familiar, mild sting behind his eyes, but refused to let tears fall in front of Michael. 

“My point is simple: let me be mad for once.” Michael snapped. “Just fucking let me be mad at you for a few days. Let me figure my shit out, and do what I need to do to fix… whatever it is that needs fixing. And let me come to you when I’m ready.” 

“But Michael you _never_ come to me.” Jeremy protested, standing up straight to match Michael’s height. “When was the last time you came to me when something was wrong?” 

“How about literally every time I have a panic attack? Every time I thought about cutting myself? Every time I already _had_ cut myself and needed someone to listen to my ranting about how stupid I was? All those times I tried to come out to my moms and freaked so I made you come over to practice? What else am I supposed to come to you with? Huh? What else?” 

Jeremy was at a loss for words. It was true. Michael did call him any time he was about to spiral into panic. Many times he’d called or texted, needing Jeremy to convince him to put a sharp object away or help him clean up a mess after the deed was done. He couldn’t count the times he’d pretended to be both of Michael’s moms in his basement and helped him write and re-write scripts to tell them he was gay. All under Michael’s request. 

“That’s what I thought.” Michael sighed, more exhausted than angry at that point. “Just move.” 

“Please, Michael, just-!” 

“Get out of my way!” Michael managed to get his fingers around the handle of the driver’s side door and yank it open, making Jeremy stumble back and trip over his own feet, sending him to the ground with a thud. “I’m sorry…” Michael shook his head before he slammed the door and sped away. 

Jeremy just stared in the direction he’d gone for a few minutes, not quite realizing how much time had passed until a familiar voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“Jeremy?” He looked up to see Brooke standing above him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Jeremy’s answer came out of his mouth before he could think. 

“Okay I might not be like super smart or anything, but I’m not stupid.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “People don’t sit on the ground in the parking lot and cry for no reason.” 

“What?” Jeremy raised his fingers to his face and found his cheeks slick with tears. “Oh…” 

“Come on, get up.” Brooke grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “We’re going to get slushies and you’re venting.” 

“But-”

“Jeremy.” Brooke cut him off with her best glare. “Get inside my mother’s car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to post the next chapter now too, but I need to keep a couple under my belt for times when I can't write as often! 
> 
> Let's chat in the comments! Who is your favourite supporting character in BMC and why? I love Brooke as a character and wanted to include her more in this story (<strike>definitely not a spoiler for the next chapter</strike>). I felt like Brooke a lot in high school, like an afterthought or an extra tacked on to someone else like she is with Chloe. But beyond that, she's just a super fun character with some super fun songs! Also, who doesn't love Lauren Marcus, am I right? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I'm looking forward to chatting! 
> 
> See y'all next time!


	25. Chapter 25

“So why were you crying on the ground exactly?” Brooke asked when she had returned to the car with two large cola slushies and a pack of gummy bears. 

Jeremy sighed, swirling his fingers against the condensation on the outside of his slushie cup. “Michael and I… we… got in a fight…” 

“What about?” The way Brooke asked questions was nice. She didn’t demand an answer, rather curiously requested clarification as she opened the gummy bears and grabbed a handful. 

“I… I can’t really say much on that front.” 

“Was it about his anxiety?” 

Jeremy’s head snapped up when she said that and their eyes met immediately. “How did you…?” he trailed off, seeing her soft gaze and sad smirk. 

“He thinks he’s good at hiding it.” She sighed and tossed her slushie in the cupholder. “And he is, he really is, but only for people who don’t know what they’re looking for.” 

“What do you mean?” Jeremy pressed after a moment. 

“My older brother has a lot of mental health issues…” She sighed again, letting her head loll back against the seat so she could stare at the roof of her mother’s car. “I know how to spot anxiety ticks. Like you, you adjust your clothes when you’re anxious and put your hand in your pockets when you feel threatened. My brother chews on his tongue and scratches himself a lot. Michael always has his headphones nearby and pulls his sleeves over his hand when he starts feeling nervous. Everyone has ‘em. They’re just more prominent in people who have stuff going on.” 

“Okay, but why would we be-?”

“Because you probably tried to help him with something and he got offended.” She stared at the rainbow of bears in her hand, eyes sticking to a particularly derpy looking red one. “Am I close?” 

“Well…” Jeremy forced himself to take a sip of his slushie to buy time. He’d promised Michael he would never tell anyone about his issues, and he’d already broken that promise with Christine. However, he wasn’t _really_ telling Brooke if she’d figured it out on her own. Right? “Yeah… I tried asking him to open up about some stuff and… I don’t know he… he got mad. Rightfully so! I mean, I implied some pretty heavy stuff I just… I didn’t expect him to kick me out of his house and give me the cold shoulder for so long. I guess I know how he felt now…” 

Brooke waited a moment after Jeremy trailed off, making sure he was finished before she said anything. “Is this the first time he’s been mad at you?” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy felt tears pricking behind his eyes again and dropped his head, hoping Brooke wouldn’t see. “Or at least the first time he’s been outwardly mad. There’s no way he hasn’t been secretly upset with me before now, he’s just too good of a friend to tell me. He went on a whole rant when I tried to apologize about how he’s never been mad at me since we’ve known each other. Not even when I abandoned him last semester. Not even when I yelled at him at…” He caught himself before divulging that bit of information. “At the mall because he almost got us in serious shit for buying weed and trying to smoke up in the bathroom. He’s literally always laughed everything off. Always. It’s so… weird…” 

“I know.” Brooke placed her gentle hand on his bouncing knee, a gesture that was familiar to both of them, but felt so different this time around. “It’s hard when you try and care for someone but they push you away. You did the same thing to Michael, didn’t you?” 

“What?” Jeremy’s knee slid out from Brooke’s hand. 

“When he told you about his friend’s brother and his experience with the squip.” She pressed. “You got defensive because you didn’t think you needed help. But really, you did. You just didn’t want to admit that something was wrong.” 

“Oh, that… yeah…” He had forgotten he’d told their friends that Michael had known far longer than he what had to be done to deactivate the squips. Boasting about how smart Michael was and how he’d always had Jeremy’s back. “I guess that is the same, isn’t it?” 

“Kind of.” Brooke nodded. “He just needs time to come around, that’s all. You can’t make someone see that they need help. They have to realize it. It sucks but that’s just how it is sometimes.” 

“But I’m worried about him…” Jeremy sighed with a tremor in his voice. “He hasn’t been this bad in so long.” 

“Jeremy…” Brooke’s voice turned quiet and unsure. “I gotta ask this, and I need you to answer me honestly.” 

“Okay…?” Jeremy looked up to see Brooke’s eyes were slightly glazed. 

“Do you…? Well… I mean… Would Michael ever…? Do you think he’d hurt himself?” 

Suddenly there was a knife in Jeremy’s stomach, twisting and pulling at his guts, making him want to throw up. “I don’t know.” He stammered, hoping Brooke wouldn’t see through his flushed fabrication. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well… because of how worried you are.” She quickly wiped a lone tear away before it fell. “When my brother was at his worst he… He tried… tried to…” 

“I’m sorry.” Jeremy grabbed her hand, hoping his tremble was unnoticeable through hers. “I’m so sorry…” 

“I just… I don’t want anyone to ever have to go through what my family went through, you know?” She didn’t bother wiping the tears away now. “He was hurting so bad he couldn’t think straight. My dad found him in the bathtub with his wrists cut. Mom just cried for forever. I couldn’t talk to anyone but Chloe for the longest time. It was just… so hard. For all of us. And… I don’t want it to happen to you. Or his moms. Or him. Or anyone else ever in the world because it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through and it’s not fair and…” 

“I had no idea, Brooke… I…” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spill my guts like that.” Brooke shook her head and tried to laugh but it came out more like a cough. “I’ve just… never told anyone but Chloe.” 

“Don’t apologize, please don’t.” Jeremy assured with a squeeze of Brooke’s hand. “I’ve had my suspicions about Michael…” He admitted. “I don’t know if he ever would but… a couple of times I’ve been really scared that he might do something like that.” 

“Watch him.” Brooke squeezed his hand back. “Please watch him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I'm interning and working at the same time so life is _busy!_
> 
> I like to think my girl Brooke has a lot more depth than she tends to get credit for. Especially the Broadway version of Brooke (who I absolutely _adore_) so I've been playing around with her character for a while! I think I really like what I've done with(to) her here! 
> 
> Anyways, enough of my Brooke ramble. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Leave me a comment if you want! 
> 
> See y'all next time! <3


	26. Chapter 26

“For the first time ever, I’m pissed off at Jeremy.” Michael admitted to Dr. Evans with a sigh. “And I hate it. I hate so much that I’m mad. I have nothing to be mad about.” 

“What happened?” She placed her clipboard in her lap and rested her forearms on it, leaning in closer and giving Michael her full attention. 

“It’s stupid.” He scoffed into the air. “He asked me if I was okay and didn’t believe me when I told him I was and I got mad because he was right and could see through my lies and I just got so worked up and everything that happened in the last year came back and I realized I should have been mad so long ago and I guess my brain finally caught up and figured itself out and now I’m fucking furious. Oh, sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” She gave him a soft smile. “It’s not stupid that you’re angry. You’re allowed to have emotions.” 

“I know I just… I don’t think him trying to help me see that I’m not okay-and that it’s okay not to be okay-is worth getting so agitated.” 

“Well, if you’re upset about it I think it’s valid to be so.” She nodded and made a quick note before looking back up at him. “Have you talked to him at all about how you’re feeling?” 

“He tried to apologize and I blew him off.” Michael crossed his arms and slumped back into his armchair. “I pushed him down in the school parking lot.” 

“That’s not like you.” 

“I know. I told you. I’m mad.” 

“I know.” Again with that gentle, genuine smile. “But let me ask you this, are you mad at Jeremy, or yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” Michael felt his brows pull together. 

“Well, you said Jeremy was trying to assure you that it’s okay not to be okay, he was trying to help, yes?” 

“I guess…” 

“So, are you really angry with Jeremy? Or are you more angry with the situation, and the fact that you are in fact not okay sometimes? And that leads you to lash out on him because he’s the one that has been trying to help you to see that you can open up?” 

“But I already knew that stuff, I just don’t… god, I don’t know.” Michael rubbed his eyes under his glasses, not bothering to fix them when they settled askew. “Like, I appreciate that he tries to help me, I do. But it seems like lately, we’ve hardly been able to have a normal conversation. It always has to revert back my mental health. Always. Every single time. And I’m sick of it! I just want to be normal. I want this bullshit to stop.” 

“It sounds to me like you’re frustrated with your circumstances.” 

“That sounds right…” Michael sighed, pressing his thumb discretely into his forearm to clear his head. 

“Michael, I want you to repeat after me, okay?” 

“Okay?” 

“I am not okay today, and that’s okay.” 

Michael curled further in on himself as he parroted back in a soft voice. “I’m not okay today, and that’s okay.” 

“Good.” Dr. Evans smiled. “Now say it like you mean it.” 

“I am not okay today, and that’s okay.” A bit louder that time. 

“Good. Now, tell me tomorrow is going to be a good day.” 

“Tomorrow will be a good day.” 

“I will make tomorrow a good day.” 

“I will make tomorrow a good day.” 

“And how are you going to do that?” 

“By smoothing things over with Jeremy.” Michael flinched at his own words. 

“Very good.” Dr. Evans’ smile grew. “Now, I want to try something.” 

“What?” Michael’s head cocked to the side. 

“Positive affirmation cards.” She pulled a stack of cue cards out of her desk and handed them to Michael as well as a black sharpie and a clipboard. “What are some things that you want people to say to you that would make you feel better? Or more comfortable day to day? It can be anything.” 

“That I’m enough.” The words left Michael’s mouth before his brain knew they were coming. 

“Perfect.” Dr. Evans nodded. “So, I want you to write ‘I am enough’ on one of those cards.” 

Michael carefully wrote out the three words, ignoring the berating voice objecting as he finished the sentence with a perfect period. 

“Good, let’s try to do two more, okay? What’s something else you’d like to hear?” 

“This I’m capable of things I want to do. That I have to stop letting my anxiety take over.” 

“Awesome, how about we condense that to ‘I can do this’?” 

“Okay.” Michael nodded and wrote out his second card. “I’m not alone.” He mumbled as he wrote out a third. 

“Great, how about we do something a bit different now? Let’s write one that doesn’t have the word ‘I’ in it.” 

“Okay…” Michael thought for a moment before settling on, “Good things can and will happen.” 

“Good choice!” Dr. Evans nodded. “for the last one, I want you to put down a quote that is meaningful to you. Now if you can’t think of- oh.” She stopped when she saw Michael putting pen to paper. “What did you choose?” She asked once he was finished writing. 

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” He smiled. 

“What’s that from?” 

“Legend of Zelda.” Michael smiled, thinking back to playing through Zelda on his NES with Jeremy. “An unnamed old man gives you a sword after he says it so you have a leg to stand on while you try to rescue the princess.” 

“I think that’s an excellent choice, then.” She made a note. “So, I’d like you to put all of those cards in places that you will see them often, and every time you do see them, either read them over five times in your head, or once out loud. Does that sound good?” 

“Sure.” Michael shrugged, handing back the extra cards, clipboard, and sharpie. 

“Good. Now, about your short story…” 

“Oh, that…” Michael disguised hanging his head as sifting through his backpack to find a notebook to put his positivity cards in. “I wrote that last night.” 

“You did? Wonderful!” 

“I wouldn’t say wonderful…” 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because it was based on my fight with Jeremy.” 

“But did you finish it?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, forcing himself to meet Dr. Evans’ eyes. “It’s three and a half pages, and basically a representation of how I wish the fight had gone.” 

“Is there a resolution?” 

“Yeah… we ended up coming to a mutual agreement in the end.” 

“Then I call it a success.” She assured. “The assignment was to write a story with an ending, and you did that. I’m proud of you.” 

“Oh, well… thanks…” 

“How did it feel to complete a story?” 

“Actually, pretty decent for the most part.” His lip twitched into something that could be considered a smile. “The only thing I didn’t like about it was that the ending was so far off from what actually happened and I would have rather had real life end the way the story did.” 

“I can understand that. Just try to carry that ending into your conversation with Jeremy, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Well, have a great weekend, Michael. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no speak! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, leave me a comment if you want!
> 
> I appreciate y'all, see you next time!


	27. Chapter 27

“Jeremy!” His father’s voice made Jeremy flinch and his square root symbol turned into more of a jagged slash. 

“What?” he called back, annoyed that his dad had to yell so loud when his room was right at the top of the stairs. 

“Someone’s at the door for you!” 

“Okay, one second.” He finished erasing his square root mishap and pushed away from his desk. He stopped halfway down the stairs at the sight of the red hoodie. 

“Hey.” Michael rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Hey.” Jeremy continued the rest of the way down the stairs in slow motion. 

“I totally get it if you don’t want to talk to me right now but I just wanted to… what?” Michael asked at the sight of Jeremy’s giant smile. 

“Of course I want to talk to you.” 

“Oh… Okay then… Can we…?” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded and grabbed a jacket. “I’ll be back later, dad!” 

The two drove in silence until they reached the park they would always play at in elementary school. Videogames were always their number one, but often they would get shooed out of their houses for fresh air and end up at the playground, battling imaginary bosses with invisible weapons. 

“So what’s up?” Jeremy asked once they were settled on the swings. 

“I…” Michael tried to find the right words. “I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like enough. Jeremy was quiet, seeing that Michael was still trying to form a sentence. “I wasn’t mad at you, not really. I was mad at me. And my brain. And the world. And you were just there. So I took it out on you. And… and that wasn’t right. I… Jeremy, I’m so sorry…” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Jeremy smiled, hoping Michael could see it in his peripheral. “You have every right to be mad. Especially at me. I’m honestly surprised it took you this long to fight with me.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty insufferable.” 

“Even if that were true, I can’t get mad at you for wanting to help.”

“I understand why you did though.” Brooke’s talk had really opened his eyes. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I can’t if I want to help.” 

“That’s the thing, though…” Michael sighed, digging his toes into the dirt. “If I don’t get pushed, how will I get better?” 

“That’s fair, but it also has to be on you to _want_ to get better. It won’t happen if you don’t want it to, right?” 

“I guess so…” Michael nodded. “I think I just need to be pushed at the right time.” 

“When is the right time?” 

“That is a question we may never know the answer to.” 

They sat in silence for a while, swinging gently in the evening breeze as the sun sunk lower below the horizon. 

“We’re cool?” Michael finally asked when he realized Jeremy hadn’t formally accepted his apology. 

“Of course we are.” 

“Good.” 

“Would now be a good time to ask how you are?” 

“I’m okay.” Michael smiled. “Dr. Evans helped me talk through some stuff. It was the best session we’ve had in a while. And since I got to patch things up with you… yeah, I’m okay.” 

“Good.” 

“I bet I can swing higher than you!” Michael suddenly shouted, making Jeremy jump. 

“No fair!” Jeremy laughed when he saw Michael’s heels digging into the ground, sending his best friend sailing before he even had a chance to get his feet under him. “You didn’t give me any warning!” Jeremy scrambled to catch up as Michael swung higher and higher, his laughter loud and genuine. 

Michael smiled wider than he had in a while, and it was real. He soared through the air as high as the chains would allow him, cackling like a banshee into the night sky. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes from the wind. He felt weightless and tingly at the top of each arch and felt the butterflies flapping more furiously with each plummet back to earth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a swing, and now he couldn’t figure out why he ever stopped swinging. 

He was free. Flying. Mind blank as he laughed and Jeremy laughed beside him. He stared at the stars, then the woodchip covered ground, then the stars again, catching glimpses of monkey bars and slides and trees in between each moment of mid-air suspension. Each time he reached the maximum height, he felt like he would stay there forever. Until of course he rushed back down, fearing he may smash to bits when he hit the dirt, but the swing always caught him. The swing would always catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awe look I actually wrote some fluff! It's definitely not a tool to lull you into a false sense of security before I hand over some wicked angst! 
> 
> Anyways, I appreciate y'all reading! Leave me a comment if you feel like it! See you next time!


	28. Chapter 28

“You good?” Jeremy asked as soon as he saw Michael. He was mildly flushed and looked irritated, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves with his brows drawn together. 

“The heater was turned up to full blast in English and Miller couldn’t figure out how to lower the temperature.” Michael huffed. “So damn hot.” 

Jeremy almost asked why Michael didn’t just take off his hoodie, or roll up his sleeves, but caught his tongue before he said anything stupid. “That sucks man, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah…” Michael pulled out the workbook he was making his way through. 

“At least it’s cool in here.” Jeremy offered. 

“Yeah, it is.” Michael nodded and continued drawing out eloquent circuitry on his motherboard diagram. 

Sullivan began lecturing as soon as the second bell rang, and Michael ignored him, speedily flipping through page after page of what seemed like child’s play to him. 

“Mr. Mell.” His heart sunk when he heard his name. 

“Yes, sir?” His voice shook as he responded. 

“Since you seem to think you don’t need this lesson, how about you come up here and complete this diagram?” 

“Uh… I-”

“Now, Mr. Mell.” 

Michael took a shaking breath in preparation and tugged his hood up, a layer of protection against the strangers in his classroom. He slowly forced himself out of his seat and made his way to the board, barely hearing Jeremy’s murmur of encouragement. He knew what he was doing. Better than Sullivan even. 

_“But what would happen if you were to just, oh I don’t know, forget everything about computers as soon as you get to the board?”_

_“That won’t happen, I know computers like the back of my hand.”_ He argued back as he picked up a dry erase marker and went to work finishing Sullivan’s crude diagram. 

_“But how well do you _really_ know the back of your hand?”_

_ “Shut up.” _ He told the voice firmly, reiterating to himself that he knew exactly what he was doing. However, he still managed to second and third guess himself on almost everything he put on the board. It felt like he was up there for years, shakily sketching out ram slots and power connectors, but he finally finished with the list of necessary elements and hurried back to his desk. 

“Excellent.” Sullivan grumbled, clearly miffed, though unable to fault Michael in any section of his diagram. 

“Hey, you did it, you got through it.” Jeremy assured, trying to keep Michael’s slightly ragged breath from becoming full out hyperventilation. 

“Yeah…” he grumbled and focussed on his breathing for the rest of class. 

As soon as the bell rang, Michael practically bolted for the door, having already let Jeremy know that he was going to smoke. He needed it after the morning he’d had. He needed it badly. 

He practically ran to his clearing, crashed through the thornbushes, and dug through his bag with shaking hands for his cassette case. He somehow managed to roll a joint with the last of the weed he kept in his bag and was just about to light it when it was snatched from between his lips. 

“Give that back!” he lunged for Dustin, barely brushing his tormentor’s wrist with the tips of his fingers as his joint was jerked away. 

“Sharing is caring.” Dustin taunted as he pulled a lighter from his own pocket. 

“I need it, give it-” Michael didn’t see the boot rushing towards his sternum and lost his breath as he fell back, coughing and wheezing. 

“And I _want_ it.” He sneered as he lit it up and took a drag. When Michael started to peel himself off the forest floor, Dustin’s foot slammed into him again, holding him fast to the cold, lumpy ground. Michael felt his stomach winding into tighter knots by the second as he watched joint being wasted, flinching every time Dustin flicked ash onto him. 

“Fuck you…” Michael practically whimpered when Dustin finished his weed all too quickly and took his foot off of Michael’s ribcage. 

“Excuse me?” Dustin raised an eyebrow. 

“You heard me.” Michael glared back as he sat up.

“I’ll give you three seconds to apologize for that one.” Dustin smirked. 

“Wishful thinking.” Michael spat while getting to his feet.

“Wrong choice.” Dustin grinned and tackled Michael back to the ground. “Don’t start shit with people you can’t take.” He practically growled. As he yanked Michael’s sleeve up and dug his fingers into freshly torn skin. 

Michael’s yelp turned into a whimper as he tried-and failed-to twist out of the iron grasp. He felt some of his cuts reopening and blood running down his arm. Tears sprung to his eyes at the pain. “Let go. Let go!” 

“No.” Dustin sneered, clamping down for a couple more seconds before tossing Michael to the ground. “If you didn’t want them to hurt, why’d you do it?” 

Michael just whimpered and writhed for a second, pulling his arm to his chest, ignoring the fact that Dustin was there while the pain died down slowly. 

“Why the fuck do so many people put up with you?” Dustin laughed as he stared down at Michael, curled up in the dirt. “Honestly. You’re fucking pathetic. A useless faggot with a couple of dykes for parents. Jeremy only keeps you around because he feels bad. And the others only keep him around because _they_ feel bad. Seriously. How much of a loser can you be?” 

Loser. 

That word echoed in his head and something snapped. 

Loser. 

Michael forced himself off the ground and to his feet. 

LOSER.

Without a second thought, he ran at Dustin and tackled him from behind. Of course, had he been thinking at all, he never would have done something so stupid. 

“YOU FUCKING FREAK!” Dustin screamed and quickly got the upper hand rolling on top of Michael and grabbing him by the front of his hoodie. “YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME?” He slammed Michael into the ground every couple of words, making his head spin and ache. “FUCK THAT NOISE. YOU’RE A FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE. NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU. FUCKING DIE ALREADY.” 

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think, asshole?” Michael snapped back. 

Dustin simply retaliated by spitting in Michael’s face. 

“Oh god! I’m gonna catch the idiot!” Michael cried. 

“FUCK YOU!” Dustin was red in the face as he screamed. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened with an idea. He grabbed Michael’s headphones from where they had fallen to the ground next to him, causing all confidence to leave the boy beneath him. 

“No, don’t you dare!” Michael begged, but couldn’t sit up due to Dustin straddling his waist. 

“These stupid things mean a lot to you, don’t they?” Dustin snickered as he stretched the earpieces uncomfortably far apart. 

“Stop, please, I’m sorry!” Michael reached and strained for the personal speakers that made him feel whole. “DUSTIN PLEASE!”

_CRUNCH_

_SNAP_

Michael fell limp as the exposed wires and splintered plastic fell onto his chest. 

“Think before you do stupid shit. Freak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. 
> 
> Leave me a comment if you want :) I appreciate y'all reading! See ya next time!


	29. Chapter 29

“As you all should be putting the finishing touches on your serial killer profiles, I’d like to take this class to talk about healthy versus unhealthy coping mechanisms.” Ms. Mallory announced to the class a few minutes after the bell. “Obviously the individuals you’ve studied for the past week or so had very unhealthy and strange coping mechanisms…” 

Michael tuned her out, trying not to let the waterworks start up again. Before Dustin had even left the clearing he had nearly been in hysterics; broken sanity clutched to his chest, mind echoing with ‘what if’s. What if he had a panic attack? What if the hallway was too loud for him to handle? What if someone tried to talk to him that he didn’t want to converse with? What if-?

A vibration in his pocket made him jump and snapped him out of his trance. He could feel someone staring at him, and looked up to meet Rich’s eyes, soft and concerned, a few desks away. Rich subtly tapped the phone balancing on his knee. Michael got the clue and pulled out his own device, checking the message from Rich. 

** Short-Ass (1:27pm):** wuts wrong where r ur headphones y were u about 2 cry 

Michael sighed and shook his head, thinking before he rattled off a response. 

** Tall-As 2 (1:29pm): ** Not crying, just high. I uh… did a stupid thing… stepped on my headphones after they fell off because I headbanged too hard. 

Michael braced for the laughter, but instead Rich looked sympathetically at him before responding.

** Short-Ass (1:30pm): ** that sux i got earbuds in my bag if u want em

** Tall-Ass 2 (1:31pm): ** Thanks, but I’ll be fine for now :) 

** Short-Ass (1:31pm): ** leme no if u need 

** Tall-Ass2 (1:32pm): ** Will do 

“So now that we have a list of unhealthy coping mechanisms, let’s discuss why people partake in them, despite knowing they are unhealthy.” Ms. Malory’s voice caught his attention and Michael glanced up at the board. Across the top of the clean white surface in her neat, bubbly writing were: 

\- Alcohol/drug abuse  
\- Retail therapy  
\- Isolation   
\- Overeating   
\- Self-harm

Michael’s stomach dropped. 

“Let’s start with substance abuse. No need to raise your hand, just call out some reasons why people turn to substance.” 

Michael tried to keep his breathing in check as the class around him called out random words or half-assed sentences. The chaos was getting to him. He pulled the cuffs of his sleeves down over his hands and dug his nails into his palms. He longed to feel his headphones around his neck, they didn’t even need to be plugged in or over his ears. He needed to know he had the option of escaping through music. But he didn’t. Kropp had taken that away from him. 

“And finally, self-harm. Why do people hurt themselves as a way of coping?” 

“To gain control.” Michael blurted. 

“Very good.” Ms. Mallory wrote the answer down without even turning to see who had spoken. 

Michael felt like there were hundreds of eyes on him, but nobody was looking at him save the occasional glance from Rich. His chest tightened as more people called out answers. 

“To punish themselves.” 

“To translate emotional pain into physical pain.” 

“To feel less numb.” 

“Excellent.” Ms. Mallory nodded and turned around to face the class. “Now, take a moment to think about a healthy coping mechanism that would work as a substitute for each of the unhealthy ones we’ve listed. Keep in mind the reasons we’ve suggested, and try to come up with something that would check at least one or two of the boxes.” 

The class began talking amongst themselves, a sound that grated against Michael’s ears in competition with the pounding of his heart. 

He couldn’t force himself to pay attention to the rest of the class. It was too loud. Too chaotic. He needed his headphones. He needed music. But no. He couldn’t have that. 

_“Jesus. You’re making it sound like he killed your puppy or something.”_

_“That’s essentially how it feels.”_ Michael snapped back. _“How would you like it if the one thing that kept you sane was taken away from you?”_

_“That was you being sane?”_ The voice scoffed. _“Wow. I’d hate to see what an insane version of you is.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

“Michael? Sorry!” Rich pulled his hand back when Michael flinched. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” He sighed, willing his heart to slow. “What’s up?” 

“The bell went…?” Rich’s eyes darted around the emptying classroom. 

“Oh. Okay.” Michael grabbed his notebook off of his desk and tossed it in his bag. 

“Seriously man, if you want my earbuds-”

“Thanks, Rich, but I’m fine.” Michael shook his head as he stood up and shouldered his bag. 

“Are you sure?” Rich jogged the few steps to catch up to Michael as they made their way towards the door. “You seem-” 

“I said I’m _fine_!” Michael huffed. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t just walk away from me.” Rich grabbed Michael’s arm when he turned, but quickly let go when Michael squeaked and jerked out of his grasp. 

“I said. Leave. Me. Alone.” Michael seethed before turning and practically running away down the hall. 

Rich watched him go, feeling tears pricking behind his eyes. 

“Fuck…” 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Michael grabbed the screen of his laptop, eyes wide. “No, no no no!” 

“What happened?” Jeremy leaned over to look, only to see his reflection in a black screen. 

“It just shut down by itself. Fuck no. All the transitions. I don’t know when I saved last.” 

“Oh no…” Jeremy sighed as he joined Michael in staring at the laptop booting up. 

“Fuck.” Michael huffed to the ceiling when he opened After Effects. “Everything I did today is gone.” He slammed his laptop shut and practically threw it on the desk. “I’m going for a walk.” 

“Can I come too?” 

“No.” 

Michael tugged up his hood and let Mr. T. know he had a headache and was heading to the nurse. The teacher just nodded in response and let him go. 

He didn’t go to Lydia. He instead went back out to his clearing, practically collapsing onto the forest floor when he got through the bushes. 

“Calm down.” He commanded himself, arms hugged around his stomach, rocking back and forth on his knees. “Calm. Down.” 

After a few seconds of rocking and hyperventilating, Michael rolled over on his back, arms spread, fist clutching the grass below him. 

“I see the sky, an oak tree, the edge of my hood, a cloud, and a squirrel.” He told himself, needing to stop the panic before it progressed any further. “I hear a plane, the wind, a truck, and a gym class.” He could also hear his breath slowing. “I feel the grass in my hands, the cold ground under my back, and my sock bunching in my shoe.” And his heart slowing. “I smell smog and forest. I taste the gum Jeremy gave me.” 

Michael took a few deep breaths but felt his heart picking back up after a couple of minutes. 

“Red: my hoodie. Orange: that flower. Yellow: the dead leaves. Green: the alive leaves. Blue: the sky. Purple… uhhh…” He searched around. “The stripe on my pride patch.” 

He took a few more deep breaths. 

“You’re okay.” He assured himself. “You’re okay.” 

He stared at the sky a little while longer. Eventually, his heart slowed to a regular pace and he felt his lungs filling fully. “I’m okay.” He nodded, peeling himself off the ground and taking one last deep breath. “I’m okay.” 

Once the feeling returned to his extremities and the tremble died down, he pulled out his phone and pulled up Rich’s messages. 

**Taller-Ass (2:48 pm):** Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, I was just really pissed about my headphones. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry. 

**Short-Ass(2:48pm):** no worries as long as ur ok

**Taller-Ass (2:49pm):** Thanks, I am.

**Short-Ass (2:50pm):** good

Michael heaved one last sigh before he stood up and wandered back to class. He got there just a couple of minutes before the bell, greeted by Jeremy’s worried face. 

“You okay?” He asked when Michael began packing his things into his bag. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. It wasn’t exactly a lie, just a stretch of the truth. He was much better than he had been when he left the classroom. That didn’t mean he was _good_, per se, but comparatively… Sure. He was okay. 

“Are you gonna be good for Christine’s show tonight?” Jeremy’s question was hesitant. “If not I’m sure everyone will understand after you were sick for most of the week.” 

“No, I’m fine.” Michael shook his head with the bell. “What time am I picking you up?” 

“Six thirty.” 

“Okay, need a lift home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, have some more angst! I hope y'all are prepared for what's to come! Though I'm writing the thing and I'm not prepared so... have fun! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, friends, I'll see you in the next one!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! Descriptions and of self-harm and gore, and depictions/implications of suicide! Do not read if those things bother you!

It was a relief to finally escape from the stuffy, packed theatre. It took everything Michael had to not immediately run for the front doors. He instead waited in the too loud, too crowded lobby with his friends, getting bumped and jostled by strangers too often. They were talking about who knows what while waiting for Christine to change so they could head out for frozen yogurt. He couldn’t force himself to pay attention. All he could do was count his breaths to keep his chest from tightening to the point of no return. He refused to spiral there in the lobby in front of all the people who _would not leave_. 

When Christine did come out, there was yelling and cheering and celebrations and Michael forced a smile and choked out something about her being amazing in the show. There were hugs all around. He didn’t want to be rude, so let the fire erupt under his skin at Christine’s secure embrace. 

Michael sighed in relief when Rich finally spoke up. “Hey, let’s get out of here, celebratory frozen yogurt!” And everyone agreed. He led the pack out the doors, weaving through people like a serpent to get outside. 

“Who’s with who?” Jake asked once they were all heading for the parking lot and Michael could breathe again. 

“I call Michael!” Rich bounced up to his side. 

“Same, I need my gay sidekick.” Christine giggled. 

“I go where she goes.” Jeremy pulled Christine close with a goofy grin. 

“I guess that settles that.” Jenna laughed. “We’ll see you guys at Yogurt City!” 

A chorus of goodbyes rang out as the cars were loaded and happy chatter grated in Michael’s head once they pulled out of the lot. He smiled and laughed along, one turn after another until they arrived. If you asked him what the conversation had been about, he couldn’t have told you.

Michael’s heart sunk as he handed over the cash for his frozen yogurt. It was such a waste to pay for something he would only throw up in a matter of a few minutes. He smiled at the cashier when she handed him his change and headed over to the table his friends were occupying. 

He plopped himself down between Rich and Brooke and dug into his dessert, scraping off the sides in an attempt to not reveal the hollow center of his artful swirl too soon. He’d gotten good at making his minimal amount of food look like much more so no one would question why he’d barely gotten anything. He kept an eye on the pace everyone else was eating at, making sure he wouldn’t finish too soon. His stomach began protesting after the fifth or sixth bite, but Michael refused to run to the bathroom more than once. He refused to call any attention to himself. He refused to look suspicious. He refused to make people worry. He just… refused. 

He laughed along with his friends, trying to force a glimmer into his eyes, hoping nobody could see through him. Oh, Rich made a joke. Laugh harder. Rich is funny. Jeremy made a follow-up joke? Give him the look. You know the one. The one that tells him the joke sucked, but then laugh after. But don’t laugh at the joke, laugh at him. 

He coached himself through the night, not at all contributing to the quickly fleeting conversation. He simply forced bitter yogurt down his throat, holding back the bile with every spoonful, and watched the others for social cues. 

When people started to finish off their froyo, Michael shoveled the last of his down and pushed away from the table. 

“Where ya goin’?” Rich asked as Michael stood. 

“Bathroom.” He smirked back and tried not to rush away too quickly. Luckily, the Yogurt City bathrooms were single stall with proper locking doors. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but could only do so much. He hoped the sounds of machinery and boisterous conversation would cover the sounds of his retching. 

“When was the last time I kept anything down…?” he wondered to himself as he scrubbed away the tears and tried to stop the tremble in his limbs. He truly could not remember the last time he had eaten. Was it the night his parents went away…? No… It couldn’t have been that long… 

“Shit…” He sighed to himself as he hauled his ass off the floor. He rinsed his mouth out and splashed some water on his face, hoping to look a little less dead when he left the bathroom. It didn’t work. He did, however, manage to wash away some of the remaining scabs that still clung to his face. It seemed like forever ago that he had faceplanted in the parking lot, yet the scabs were still there. Some of them were pale and crumbling away with every touch, but others were still angrily glaring red. He rolled his eyes at the cross-hatched marks before he finally left the bathroom. 

“Welcome back!” Rich smiled when Michael fell back into his chair. 

“Why thank you!” Michael laughed back. “Did you miss me?” 

“How could I not?” Rich giggled. 

“Well, shall we head out?” Christine finally asked with a yawn. “I’m beat.” 

“Yeah, let’s.” Michael agreed with a nod. 

“When did it start raining?” Brook grumbled as they left the store, pulling her cardigan closer to her to fight the damp chill in the air. 

“Gross.” Jenna agreed. “Why is it even raining in February?” 

“Would you rather it be snow?” Jake teased. 

“For the planet’s sake, yeah.” Jenna chuckled back. “But for my warmth’s sake, no I guess not.” 

“Well, see you guys on Monday!” Jeremy waved as everyone piled into their designated vehicles and the drive home began. 

Christine was dropped first, then Rich, then Jeremy, then Michael was alone. He made sure his car was around the corner and out of sight from Jeremy’s house before he pulled over and rested his head on the wheel, heaving a huge sigh. Keeping face all night had been absolutely exhausting. 

Michael just sat there for a moment, not trusting himself to drive with how much he was shaking. 

“Why are you like this.” He slammed a fist into the wheel, savouring the ache it caused. “Why? All you did was go out with friends. Why are you such a fucking mess right now?!” 

He let the tantrum run its course. A bit of crying, a couple more punches to his poor steering wheel, and another “pep talk” or two. He felt slightly better afterward, at least good enough to drive home without veering off the road. 

“Home sweet… What the _fuck_?!” Michael felt a dagger in his heart as soon as he flicked his light on. “No… no no nonono!” He stalked over to the neon sign above his bed. The one that was now half burnt out and just read ‘weird.’ “Of course. Of _fucking_ course! Why wouldn’t you burn out? WHY WOULDN’T ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE GO WRONG TODAY?!” 

He tore his bag off his shoulders and threw it across the room, the laptop contained within it forgotten until it hit the wall. The clang the bag made when it connected with the concrete foundation of the house made the dagger in Michael’s heart twist. “Fuck me.” He seethed, fists tangled in his hair immediately. “Calm down, you’re being stupid. It’s just a sign. And now you’ve smashed your laptop but it’s fine. You can fix it. You’re being stupid.” But he couldn’t fight off two panic attacks in one day without his horrible habits. “Fine, smoke. Go for it. Smoke. Waste more of your weed. Sure.” 

He wasn’t sure if he was actually speaking out loud, nor did he really care. Nobody was around to hear him. 

He practically dove for the drawer in his bedside table where he kept his contraband and razor blades, and the dagger in his heart made another full rotation when his pack of double-edged razors tumbled onto his carpet instead of the tiny Ziplock he was expecting. Great. So not only had Kropp wasted the last of his school weed, he’d wasted the last of it in general. 

Michael let out a grunt of frustration as he paced, sweat forming in his hairline as he tried to stop the whirlwind of nothing that was crashing around in his head. He felt trapped in his hoodie, blisters bubbling up on his skin wherever the pilling fabric touched him. He tore it off, struggling to get his head out in his haste, and tossed it aside. The lump of fabric made it all the way to his bathroom door. 

“You’re fucking fine. Stop freaking out. You don’t need to do this! Just fucking stop! JUST BE NORMAL!” he screamed at himself, desperate not to spiral. “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL?!” 

His knees gave out and he went crashing down. He didn’t even think when he saw the razor in front of him. He immediately attacked his arm, feeling little relief from the intense sting. 

“Why?” he begged as he dragged the razor over his forearm over and over. “Why aren’t you working?” His breath hitched as a sob shook his body. “JUST WORK!” 

He was going to fall off the cliff any minute. No one would catch him. No music would distract him back from the edge. He would just fall indefinitely until he passed out. He couldn’t handle that. No. He needed to back away. 

Michael stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over his hoodie when he skidded into the bathroom, already light-headed. He pulled one of his drawers off its track when he flung it open. His shaking hands closed around the bottle of rubbing alcohol. The cap wouldn’t cooperate. It fought to stay on the bottle, leaving Michael gasping for air with blood pooling below him on the floor. 

He eventually managed to get the bottle open despite hardly being able to hold the thing. He didn’t let himself think before dumping the whole thing down his arm. He couldn’t scream. The pain blinded him momentarily. When he could see again, he was staring at the ceiling of his bathroom. His head ached. His left arm was twitching from shoulder to fingertips. He peeled his back off the tile and leaned against the wall, taking in the amount of blood on the floor with wide eyes. He fished his phone out of a crimson puddle and saw that an hour had passed. 

“I can’t even die right…” He mumbled. Though, he hadn’t been trying to kill himself, he’d just been trying to stop the panic. “Or…” He took a breath, a wave of calm washing over him. “Maybe I can…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that happened... Go ahead, yell at me in the comments. Just know it will get worse before it gets better. Thank you for reading, and I'll see y'all in the next one.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: depictions/descriptions of child abuse and suicide.

“UNGRATEFUL GOOD FOR NOTHING FREELOADER!” Rich just kept his eyes screwed shut as his father slammed him into the sheetrock in time with every insult. He wasn’t drunk enough. Too coordinated. Too aware. Too strong. Rich could feel the bruises forming beneath his father’s fists, tangled in Rich’s tie-dye tank top. His collarbones would be tender the next day… Rich just tried his best to keep his head from connecting too harshly with the wall, not in the market for another concussion. “YOU’RE LUCKY I PUT UP WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!” 

“Legally you have to.” Rich shot back, trying not to recoil at the stench of whiskey and red wine in his father’s hot breath. It was a disgusting mixture, really. 

“Shut up!” Rich didn’t see the fist flying towards his face and promptly crumpled to the hardwood floor. He didn’t have a chance to blink before his father’s work boot slammed into his stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Rich couldn’t even gasp for air after the fifth kick. “Get up, pussy.” His father demanded while Rich was left, struggling to get his lungs under control, writhing on the floor. “I SAID GET THE FUCK UP!” and suddenly there was a fist in his hair, dragging him across the floor. Rich grabbed at his father’s wrist, trying to loosen the grip or get his feet under him, but to no avail. He was tossed down the back steps and landed on the lawn at the bottom with a squish. “Don’t even think of coming back until you realize how good you have it here.” 

“Fuck you.” Rich wheezed as the door slammed. He heard the deadbolt slide into place, but just took a minute to let himself remember how to breathe. 

The random aches and pains eventually dulled down, and his lungs figured themselves out after a while, so he dragged his ass up off the muddy grass and flipped his house off while setting out. He wasn’t sure where he was going. All he knew was he wanted to get away. His hands immediately went for his pockets to grab his phone, but alas it wasn’t there. He must have lost it during his ‘fight’ with the six-foot-four drunk. Rich shook his head as he wandered down his street, the cold rain grabbing onto his skin and leeching every bit of warmth out of him by the time he reached the end of the block. 

He wandered aimlessly for a while, trying to remember if any park benches or sheltered bus stops had looked particularly inviting recently. When the first lightning strike flashed in the distance and thunder rolled across the sky, however, he randomly remembered Michael’s promise. 

_“ My door is always open. But on the off chance it’s not, there’s a key taped to the top of the doorframe.”_

“I’m so sorry, Michael…” Rich sighed and rerouted towards his friend’s house at a speed walk. Now that he had a destination in mind he wanted nothing more than to get out of the bone-chilling storm. He felt horrible, dreading showing up unannounced, but Michael _had_ given him an open invitation. 

When Rich reached Michael’s back door fifteen minutes later he knocked, hoping it would seem less intrusive if he asked for an answer. He knocked three times, waiting a few minutes between each before he decided that the winds were getting too much and the lighting was too close for comfort. 

He tried the door and found it unlocked. He hoped Michael was in the shower or had found a spare set of headphones he was jamming with or something. How awkward would it be if Michael was sleeping? Would Rich have to wake him up? Or would he just pass out on the couch and wait until he scared the shit out of Michael in the morning to explain himself? 

“Michael?” Rich called down the stairs as he took off his sopping high tops. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or text or anything. My dad kinda… threw me out.” No answer. Rich felt uneasy at the absolute silence. Michael was definitely there, his car was in the driveway. “Michael, you there?” he called again, a bit louder to be heard over the rain. “Michael?” he started down the steps. 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner into Michael’s room. “Michael?” He was crumpled on the floor in the middle of the room, facing away from Rich. A few feet away from him was an empty tequila bottle and a few beer cans. Maybe he’d just gotten drunk and passed out? “You okay?” Rich knelt down and gave his shoulder a shake. He flinched slightly at how bony the arm in his grasp felt. The lack of padding made Rich’s eyes wander, and his heart sunk at the absolutely skeletal body that was Michael. When his gaze finally passed over Michael’s left arm, Rich’s heart stopped altogether and his stomach plummeted to hell. 

“What the…?” Rich gently crawled over Michael, careful not to kick him, so he could properly take in the mess. “Oh god…” He felt sick at the sight of marred flesh and dried blood. “Michael…” Rich moved to grab Michael’s hand, somehow thinking that would help the situation, but found a prescription bottle trapped within the unconscious grasp. “Michael, no. You didn’t…” Rich’s eyes widened when he read the label on the bottle. Prozac. It had been filled a week prior. It wasn’t a small bottle. And now that he was looking for them, there were more pill bottles scattered nearby. Ibuprofen, sleep aids, acetaminophen, codeine, morphine. All emptied. “No! Oh god, oh no, no no nonononono…” 

A cold fist encased Rich’s heart and he felt his hands begin to tremble. “What do I do?” He asked out loud, hoping someone would answer. But of course, nobody would. “Call an ambulance, you idiot!” He snapped at himself, going for his pocket. “You don’t have your phone, dumbass. Michael, where’s your…? Shit!” Rich was nearing hysterics as he frantically flung his head around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the device. “Where is it? OH!” he dove for the phone, which was partially tucked under Michael’s bedside table. “Okay, okay…” He tried to breathe deeply, but couldn’t control his lungs at all as he selected ‘emergency call’ from the home screen. He clutched the phone desperately to his ear, almost afraid he would shatter the screen just by holding it so tightly. The mechanical ring sliced through the silence like a child’s scream, resonating in Rich’s head as if a tuning fork was inside of his ear. 

“Nine-one-one what’s the location of your emergency?” A woman on the other line finally picked up after a ring and a half. Rich rattled of Michael’s address, eyes never leaving his friend’s face. “And what’s going on there?” 

“My… My friend… he… tried to… tried to kill himself.” Rich finally managed to choke out with a sob. 

“I have an ambulance on its way to you.” The woman’s voice was soft and concerned. “What’s your friend’s name?” 

“Michael.” Rich sniffed and tried to keep another sob from tearing through his chest. “Michael Mell.” 

“He’s breathing?” 

Rich’s eyes widened as he realized he hadn’t even checked if Michael was alive. He quickly leaned down, his ear an inch from Michael’s face and sighed in relief at the ragged breath. “Yes.” 

“Good. And what’s your name, hon?” 

“My name… Rich. My name is Rich.” 

“Okay Rich, my name is Holly. I need you to stay on the line with me.” 

“O-okay.” Rich nodded. 

“I need you to tell me a couple of things, Rich.” 

“Okay.” 

“How old is Michael?” 

“Sixteen, he’s sixteen.” 

“His parents aren’t home?” 

“No, no. They… they’re in… In Italy.” 

“Okay, how did Michael try to take his life?” 

Rich felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The way she said it so casually. “There are… empty… empty pill bottles… beer cans and… and an empty tequila bottle.” 

“So he overdosed in combination with alcohol… What pills did he take?” 

“I see Prozac, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, morphine, melatonin, and codeine.” 

“Okay, the medics need to know.” She mumbled before a slight pause. Rich was holding his breath, leaving the only sound in the room to be Michael’s rattling breaths. “EMS is almost to you, the ambulance won’t be far behind. Can you go out to the street to flag them down?” 

“I…” Rich tried to force himself to his feet, but could hardly get his knees off the ground. “No, I can’t... I can’t leave him!” Another sob tore through his chest. “I’m sorry!” 

“No, don’t apologize honey.” Suddenly Holly’s voice was much softer and more reassuring. “What room of the house are you in?” 

“We.. we’re in the… the basement.” Rich sniffed. “The back door is the… the quickest… quickest way in.” 

“That’s good to know.” Holly assured before relaying the information to someone else. “You’re doing great, Rich.” 

He couldn’t respond. His eyes were locked on Michael’s face. The purple bags under his eyes. The rat’s nest of hair. The hollow cheeks. So many warning signs buried under the excuses of “well, he’s looked like that since I’ve known him,” or “he pulled an all-nighter,” and the ever so popular “it’s none of my business.” 

“Hello? EMS!” a voice called down the stairs accompanied by the door slamming open. 

“Here!” Rich called back, dropping the phone and completely forgetting about Holly on the other end of the line. 

Everything became a blur. People in black uniforms with reflective stripes came and went, hooked Michael up to portable monitors, shot medical jargon back and forth, all ignoring Rich. He just watched as time seemed to be moving at a quarter speed, but also somehow double-time. Eventually, Michael was loaded onto a stretcher and whisked away up the stairs. One medic put her hand on Rich’s shoulder and told him they would take Michael to Beth-Israel before she jogged away. 

He just sat there. 

“Fuck!” Rich suddenly realized that no one else knew. “Jeremy…” He lunged for the discarded phone and somehow managed to type in Michael’s password (he’d creeped over his shoulder a few times and had planned on filling his camera roll with stupid selfies) with his trembling fingers. He opened the group chat and started a video call. 

“What’s up, Mich-?” Jeremy stopped in surprise when his best friend wasn’t on the screen, but instead a drenched, shivering Rich. “Rich, why…? Why do you have Michael’s phone? And why are you in his room?” 

Rich felt the tears starting up again as everyone joined the call, questioning what was going on and why he was crying on Michael’s floor. 

“Rich, what’s wrong?” Jeremy demanded once everyone was in the call. 

“Michael… he…” Rich took a shaking breath and decided that his only option was to just say it outright. “He overdosed.” 

“What?” Christine broke the stunned silence after a few minutes. 

“I found him… he took a bunch of pills and drank some beers and tequila. Ambulance just took him away.” 

“Oh my god…” Brooke’s hand was over her mouth as Chloe wrapped an arm around her and Jenna latched onto her hand. 

“Jeremy…” Jake began but trailed off. He couldn’t say anything. 

“What hospital.” Jeremy’s voice held no inflection. His face was completely blank. 

“Beth Israel.” Rich wrapped his free arm around his stomach.

“I’ll come get you. Christine too. Jake, you get the girls.” With that, Jeremy disappeared from their screens. 

“Jesus fuck…” Jake ran a hand through his hair. “You guys are still at Chloe’s place, right?” 

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded. 

“Be there in ten.” Jake left the chat as well. 

“See you guys soon.” Jenna was holding back tears as the trio left just Christine and Rich in the call. 

“Rich are you okay?” Christine asked gently. 

“What do you think?” 

“I know that was a stupid question.” 

Rich couldn’t respond. He knew if he opened his mouth he would just start sobbing again. 

“Jeremy will be there soon, okay?” 

Rich just nodded and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you want. See y'all in the next one.


	32. Chapter 32

“There’s no way that just happened…” Rich breathed, a tremor starting up again in his core and spreading quickly to the ends of his fingers and toes. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or not as he let his fingers tangle themselves in Michael’s carpet, silent tears rolling down his neck. He just stared, not seeing the mess before him. 

What felt like it could have been seconds or years later, a hand was on Rich’s shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Come on.” Jeremy’s face was blank, voice flat. Rich had never seen him look so… dead. He just nodded and allowed Jeremy to drag him to his feet. Rich followed Jeremy towards the basement steps, and spotted Michael’s hoodie on the floor in the bathroom. Unsure why, Rich veered off course and went for the pile of red fabric. He gathered it against his chest, still damp from the rain, and held back the scream he so desperately wanted to let out. 

“Jesus…” He heard Jeremy behind him. “FUCK!” And Rich looked up to see what Jeremy was seeing. The blood. The deep crimson that wouldn’t show up in Michael’s black carpet but was a blinding contrast to the white tile. “What did his left arm look like.” Jeremy braced himself against the doorframe, paler than usual at the sight. 

“Totally torn up.” Rich squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the image of Michael’s marred skin. 

“I should have known.” Jeremy shook his head, fingers clenched tight. “I SHOULD HAVE FUCKING KNOWN!” he slammed one of his trembling fists into the wall, breathing through the ache it sent up his arm. 

“Hey, don’t go hurting yourself.” Rich guided Jeremy away from the wall before he could do more damage. 

“Why shouldn’t I.” He returned to the monotonous machine-like being. 

“Think of him. How bad it would hurt him.” 

Jeremy considered for a moment before relenting with a nod. “Come on, my dad’s waiting in the car.” 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“Any luck?” Christine’s voice was hopeful as Mr. Heere returned to the area of the waiting room they had taken over. She was curled into an uncomfortable plastic chair next to Rich, rubbing circles into his back through the polar bear of Michael’s hoodie. 

“No.” Mr. Heere sidestepped his pacing son, lowering himself into a chair across from Christine. “Neither of them are answering their phones.” 

“Have you tried texting?” Chloe offered from where she and Brooke were propped up against a wall on the cold, hard floor. “Or email?” 

“I sent them Facebook messages, yes.” Mr. Heere pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed tight. “But I can’t in good conscious tell them this sort of thing through a message.” 

“Yeah… that would be… even worse somehow…” Jake sighed, breath sounding shaky due to his bouncing leg. 

“What time is it in Italy?” Brooke asked, grip on Chloe’s arm not letting up in the slightest. 

“Six in the morning.” Jenna informed before anyone could even think to pull out their phones. Her’s was still clutched in her hand as she knelt on a chair, as if she thought news of Michael would ping through somehow. 

“So they should be awake and see the messages in a few hours then.” Christine nodded, trying her best to keep everyone from plunging into the pit in the middle of the room. 

Mr. Heere nodded and everyone lapsed into silence. The only sounds coming from their corner were Rich’s ragged breaths and Jeremy’s shuffling feet. No one bothered to tell him pacing wouldn’t help. He knew that. But there was no way he could sit still. Not when he’d seen three missed calls and a text from Michael. 

Player 1 (10:22pm) help 

And the timestamps on the messages. An hour previous. The only reason he’d seen them was because Rich had started that video call. 

The anxiety was twisting so tightly in his stomach that he felt like he would throw up any second. The pain in his chest could almost convince him he would keel over from cardiac arrest. The anger that burned so hot that he felt numb made him long for any other emotion to strike. Greif. Despair. Guilt. Anything. He wanted to feel anything. 

_“Is this how Michael felt all those times?”_ Jeremy wondered. He’d described his urges as ‘just needing to feel something’ on occasion. _“How the fuck does he put up with this?”_ Michael was so much stronger than Jeremy gave him credit for, especially considering Jeremy had only been feeling this way for half an hour, and Michael had felt it for years before he finally cracked. 

“Fuck!” huffed and slammed the heel of his hand into his forehead. He felt mild satisfaction in the dull thump that resounded in his skull. 

“Jeremy, don’t-” Mr. Heere reached for his wrist with the intention to keep Jeremy from hurting himself, but Jeremy ducked away before contact was made. “Jeremy!” He called as his son made a dash for the doors that would take him outside. 

“I’ll go-” Brooke was on her feet in an instant, about to run after Jeremy when Mr. Heere grabbed her shoulder. 

“No, I’ll-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Brooke cut in and shrugged out of his grip, “I’m the only one here who knows exactly how he feels right now.” And then she ran after him. 

“Jeremy.” She found him moments later with his head in a trashcan at the edge of the overhang that sheltered the Emergency Department doors from the slowing storm. She felt nausea poking under her own chin as the sound of Jeremy’s gagging cut through the raindrops on the steel overhead, but ignored it. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s _not_!” he whirled around, fists tangled in his hair, elbows to his chest as he collapsed back against the cold brick wall. 

“I know…” Brooke felt like kicking herself for saying something so idiotic. “But-”

“He called me.” Jeremy’s voice broke and the tears he didn’t know he’d been holding back flowed thick and fast into the sleeves of his cardigan. “He fucking called me!” Brook was silent as Jeremy slid down the wall and landed in a heap. “He called three times. He texted me. I was doing homework and then I was in the shower. My phone was on silent from the show. I knew he was doing horrible. I should have turned it back on. I should have done better. He deserves better! I could have stopped this and I _didn’t_!” And suddenly there were arms wrapped around him. Brooke was on the ground, prying him away from the wall, sobbing silently while he gasped for air and clutched desperately at her jacket. “I could have stopped him. He was asking for help and I wasn’t there to help him. I could have helped him, Brooke. I could have stopped this all from happening. And now he might be dead because I’m an idiot. I’m a fucking idiot and I didn’t remember to turn my ringer back on and now my best friend might be dead because of it. Michael could be-” He cut himself off with a choked sob while Brooke just rubbed circles into his back, chest tightening with every word that tumbled out of his mouth. 

“I felt the same way.” Brooke whispered once Jeremy’s hysterics had died down to hiccups and she thought he’d be able to hear her. “I blamed myself for so long. Longer than my parents, even. I was out with Chloe when it happened. I thought, maybe if I’d just stayed home. Maybe if I’d called or texted to check on him. Maybe… there were so many maybes. But the truth is, he would have found another way. Another time. We just have to be thankful that Rich happened to be there and hope that help got there in time.”

“What if they _didn’t_ get there in time?” Jeremy’s voice was that of a child who had just lost a pet. Utterly broken. 

“They did.” Brooke assured with a fresh wave of tears and a stronger grip on Jeremy. “They had to have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus (and on a cliffhanger too). I work in the essential services so I've been going to work despite the pandemic while attempting to adjust to online school, which has taken up a lot of time. But now I'm showing symptoms of the virus and am isolated in my bedroom for two weeks so maybe I'll get some writing done. 
> 
> I hope you guys are all safe and keeping yourselves entertained if you're quarantined! Hopefully the wait between this chapter and the next will be shorter this time! 
> 
> Leave me a comment if you want, whether it's about the story or not. I'll see y'all in the next one!


	33. Chapter 33

“Michael Mell?” A voice called into the waiting room and six heads snapped in the direction it came from. The nurse hurried over, adjusting his purple scrubs as he nearly tripped over a chair. “Are… any of you… family?” He asked when he reached the group, brows pulling together at the eclectic crowd of people who were clearly not all of the same bloodline. 

“Well, you see we…” Mr. Heere got to his feet and cleared his throat. “We have a bit of a dilemma. His mothers are away in Italy, and we haven’t been able to reach them as of yet.” 

“Oh, I see, okay.” The nurse nodded and referred to the chart in his hands momentarily. “Well, I can’t release any details, but I can tell you that he is stable at the moment. If he remains in his current condition or improves, you’ll be able to visit with him in the morning.” 

“Thank you.” Mr. Heere nodded. “When we do get a hold of his mothers, will someone be able to talk to them?” 

“Yes, yes, if you manage to call them any of the receptionists in the ICU will be able to explain his situation.” 

“Perfect, thank you so much.” 

“Of course.” And with that the nurse was off again, his knee connecting with the nearby coffee table as he went. 

“He’s okay…” Rich finally broke the silence with a pitiful whisper accompanied by fresh tears. “He’s gonna be okay…” 

“He is.” Christine assured as she pulled Rich close and deeply inhaled the stale smell of Michael’s hoodie. “I should go tell Jeremy.” Rich tensed under her arm when she said she was leaving, but he couldn’t protest. Jeremy of all people needed to know what was happening with his best friend. 

“Okay, well we should move up to the ICU waiting room, kids.” The group all rose with Mr. Heere’s suggestion. 

“I’ll let Jeremy and Brooke know.” Christine headed for the front door and was surprised to hear another pair of feet catch up with her. 

“I need to make sure she’s okay.” Chloe explained in response to Christine’s raised eyebrow. 

The girls walked in silence out the automatic doors and found Jeremy and Brooke on the ground by a trashcan, arms wrapped around each other, barely sheltered from the rain. 

“Jeremy?” Christine nearly whispered when she was a few steps away. 

“Brooke.” Chloe knelt down and placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulder, guiding her to let go of Jeremy and let Christine take his place. 

“Mi-chael?” Jeremy asked with a hiccup.

“A nurse told us he was stable.” Christine nodded, swooping down to the ground as soon as there was space. “He couldn’t tell us anything else but he’ll be okay.” 

“Thank god.” Brooke choked back a sob and let Chloe lead her inside while Jeremy practically jumped on top of Christine. He buried his head in her shoulder, sobbing and trembling harder than he’d been when he hadn’t known if Michael was dead or alive. 

“He’s alive.” He managed to choke out. “He’s alive!” 

“He’s alive.” Christine assured as she attempted to hold Jeremy as tightly as he was holding her. However, Jeremy seemed to have gained superhuman strength, though he didn’t seem to mind the slightly weaker return hug. “He’s in the ICU, so when you’re ready to go back in-” 

“Have his moms called back yet?” 

“No…” Christine’s insides were in knots. His poor mothers. They were going to be waking up to a barrage of missed calls and what was probably a panic-inducing Facebook message if she knew anything about Mr. Heere. “I just hope they get back to us soon…” 

“Oh god, my dad has to-”

“No.” Christine started rubbing circles into his back when Jeremy moved to get up, trying her best to calm him. “He doesn’t have to tell them. The nurse said the ICU secretary could do that for him. He just has to answer the phone and hand it over.” 

“Good.” Jeremy relaxed into her again. “Good.” 

“Did you and Brooke have a good talk?” Christine couldn’t get the words out of her head: _“I’m the only one here who knows exactly how he feels right now”._

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded. “Well… Actually. I yelled at her. Or, more so at me. Just in her direction. But she listened. And she knew how…” He stopped himself. He really couldn’t go around saying things about other people. It was a bad habit. 

“She said she knew how you felt, but…” Christine sighed. She shouldn’t pry, she was just naturally curious. “Doesn’t everyone? I mean, we all thought…”

“I shouldn’t say.” Jeremy sighed. “It’s not my story to tell.” 

“Fair enough. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Don’t be.” 

They sat for a while longer, clinging to each other while the rain continued to pour down on the steel roof. Christine wasn’t sure if Jeremy was trembling from adrenaline or cold, or a combination of the two, but when the tremble didn’t die down after a few minutes, she decided it was time for him to warm up. 

“Come on, we should head inside.” She practically dragged Jeremy to his feet and clung to his arm as they traveled back in through the sliding doors to find the ICU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the hiatus. Quarantine is getting to me, y'know? 
> 
> I hope you're all doing well, staying safe, and staying healthy. Thank you for reading, I'll see you in the next one.


	34. Chapter 34

Thirty Four

“Hm?” Diane awoke to Kelly shaking her shoulder and came face to face with a phone screen when she opened her eyes. It took a couple of seconds for her to focus but when she did, her heart dropped. 

**5 missed calls from: Mr. Heere (Jeremy’s Dad)**

“What?” Diane shot up to a sitting position. “Did he leave any messages?” 

“No but he messaged me on Facebook and said to call as soon as I got it.” Kelly bit her lip as she put the phone on speaker. 

“Kelly, thank god!” the relieved voice interrupted the first ring of the call. 

“What happened?” Kelly’s voice came as close to a snap as it had ever been. 

“Is Michael okay?” Diane demanded in her much sterner tone. 

“Hold on let me just…” There was shuffling and static on the other end of the line and some muffled chatter before an unfamiliar female voice came one. 

“Hello am I speaking with Mr. or Mrs. Mell?” 

“Mrs. And Mrs.” Kelly replied, her knuckles turning white from the death grip she had on her cell. 

“Oh, my apologies.” The voice quickly backtracked. 

“To whom are we speaking?” Diane rolled her eyes at the pleasantries. There was obviously something wrong and she wanted to know what it was _now_. 

“Oh right, my name is Beverly, I’m a secretary at Beth Israel Hospital-”

“What. Happened.” Kelly was near seething at the point and Diane was already moving to start packing their things. 

“It seems that your son…. Michael…. has tried to… take his own life.” 

The two froze. Diane couldn’t breathe. Kelly felt her heart stop momentarily. Everything stood still for a second. Or a day. Or maybe a year. Neither of them could tell. 

“I understand you two are out of the country at the moment?” 

But they couldn’t answer. 

“Mrs. Mell’s?” 

“Yes, we’re here.” Diane found her voice first. “And yes, we’re in Italy at the moment.” 

“Okay, is there anybody here who can make decisions on your behalf if the need arises? Family members or-” 

“The man who gave you the phone. He’s a family friend.” 

“Okay, you don’t have any blood relatives-?” 

“No.” Kelly snapped, not even realizing the tears rolling down her cheeks were there. “What’s Michael’s status?” 

“He’s stable. He flatlined once on the way to the hospital but they were able to resuscitate him in the ambulance. He had his stomach pumped and he’s on an IV drip for hydration and to flush his system.”

“So he overdosed?” Kelly’s stomach dropped even further into the sea. 

“Yes, with many different medications in combination with alcohol poisoning.” 

“Jesus…” Kelly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you able to email me a copy of his toxicology report? I’m a lab technician at the same hospital and would like to look over it. Kelly Mell. I can give you my employee number if you need.” 

“Not necessary, consider it done.” 

“Thank you, Beverly.” Kelly needed to see for herself. She needed something concrete. 

“We’ll get the next flight back.” Diane called from across the room where she was stuffing clothes into her suitcase with no regard for organization. 

“I’ll go see if the crew can line something up for us.” Kelly speed walked to the door, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. 

“Wait, Kell.” Diane reached out but hesitated when her wife flinched. 

“Please, don’t.” And then whisked away. Diane’s heart stopped. 

“Michael…” She called after her wife, but shook her head. He had to have picked up his mannerisms somewhere. 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“They’ve selected you as Michael’s guardian until they can get home.” The secretary explained as she handed Mr. Heere’s phone back. “So all decisions that are not urgent or lifesaving go through you for the time being.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. “Thank you.” 

“I can’t imagine…” Jenna sighed. “His moms are across the world and he’s in the hospital and they can’t do anything about it.” 

“I can’t either.” Mr. Heere placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Jenna’s shoulder and hung his head, willing the tears not to fall. Michael was a second son to him, just as Jeremy was to the Mell’s. When Michael’s mental health had begun to deteriorate, Mr. Heere had noticed. He’d seen much of himself in Michael, but he refused to believe that the happy go lucky kid his son had grown up with was even remotely as miserable as he. So he’d never tried to help. 

“Don’t think about that now.” He chastised himself silently. “You’ve got eight kids to keep face for.” 

“Hey, Rich?” Jake’s voice caught everyone’s attention and Rich pried his forehead off of his knees. 

“Hm?” 

“What ah… what happened to your face?” 

Rich stared at Jake, completely blank for a moment, until he remembered the altercation from earlier in the night. God… that seemed like years ago. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled. 

“But, why were you-?” 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” He snapped. “This isn’t about me. It’s about him.”

“It’s not just about him.” Chloe shook her head. “It’s about all of us. Mostly him. But not completely.” 

“I just…” Rich choked on another sob as fresh tears brimmed in his eyes. “It can’t be about me right now. It just can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I'm bad at uploading... So sorry again for the long breaks between chapters, it's hard to do anything besides play animal crossing recently. Anyway, we're coming close to the end! Just a few more chapters and you won't have to suffer through any more month-long silences! 
> 
> I hope y'all are still enjoying the story, and finding ways to keep occupied during quarantine. I'll see you in the next one!


	35. Chapter 35

“Excuse me?” Beverly, the secretary, called softly from the edge of the loose cluster in her waiting room. “You are welcome to visit Michael now, two at a time please.” She gave his room number and smiled as best she could. 

“Thank you.” Mr. Heere nodded. 

There was no question that Jeremy would go, so he immediately shot out of his chair and started down the hall. 

“I’m going, too.” Rich was up a split second later. Nobody objected. After all, Rich had found Michael. 

When Rich finally reached the room Michael was in, his feet sprouted roots and stuck him to the tile floor. His lungs struggled to remember their function, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. If possible, Michael looked even more fragile than when Rich had found him on the ground in his basement. 

He gradually was able to advance, joining Jeremy in the tiny private room crowded with machinery. There was tape on Michael’s eyelids that looked like it itched. He had a tube down his throat that was attached to a groaning machine via a vacuum looking hose. There was a clip on his left index finger that seemed to be connected to a beeping heart rate monitor, and multiple bags of fluids feeding needles in his right hand and arm. His left arm was wrapped in bandages, and the rest of his exposed skin was pale as Filipino skin could be. The bags under his eyes looked nearly black, and his hair was a greasy mess. He looked as if a single touch would shatter him. 

“Michael…” Jeremy was gripping the rail on the side of the bed Michael was propped in, knuckles white, breaths hitching, tears splattering softly on the thin sheet covering Michael from the waist down. “I’m so sorry…” 

“It’s not your fault.” Rich placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, unsure of what else he could do. 

“I know it’s not I just…” He took a few deep breaths, not believing Rich’s words in the slightest. It _was_ his fault. “I can’t believe he was hurting this much.” 

“I know.” Rich nodded, wiping away tears of his own. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Rich grabbed a couple of plastic chairs from the corner and brought them to the edge of the bed, where they sat in silence for a while. Jeremy kept reaching out as if to hold Michael’s hand or fix the hair that was falling across his eyes, but stopped himself every time. 

“You won’t hurt him, honey.” A nurse told him with a soft smile while recording his vitals. “Just mind the machines.” 

All day, Jeremy kept himself planted in the chair at the head of Michael’s bed. Silent. Staring. No one bothered to ask him to move. They knew he wouldn’t. He watched every vital check the nurses made. Every time they yanked Michael’s eyelids open to shine a light into his eyes Jeremy flinched. It looked like they would tear the lids right off, leaving the glassy eyes of his best friend exposed to the world forever. He grew accustomed to the grinding groan of the ventilator and the screeching beep of the heart rate monitor. He ignored everybody as they rotated through, switching out every thirty minutes. They all tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He knew he would break down as soon as he opened his mouth. So he just stared at Michael’s face, occasionally brushing the hair away that persistently fell across his eyes. 

“Jeremy.” He jumped when his dad rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Visiting hours are over. We have to go home.” 

“But…” Jeremy felt tears welling up again. 

“I know, buddy.” His dad sighed at the dejected look in his son’s eyes. “But we can’t do anything for him right now. We need to go home. You need to sleep. We all need to sleep.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jeremy whispered and brushed the hair out of Michael’s eyes one last time before he let his dad lead him out of the room. 

The pack walked silently out to their respective cars. Christine had Jeremy by the hand after he walked into the nurses’ station counter, and Rich was latched tightly to Brooke’s elbow. Nobody said a word as they all climbed in their vehicles and set off for home. 

“I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.” Christine broke the silence once they were in her driveway. 

“Try to get some sleep, dear.” Mr. Heere returned her forced smile as she shut the car door. 

“Dad, Rich is coming to our place.” Jeremy declared softly when they reversed out of the driveway. 

“Okay.” Mr. Heere nodded. 

“I am?” Rich piped up from the back seat. 

“Yeah.” Jeremy sighed. “Yeah, you are.” 

“Okay…” He agreed. It wasn’t as if he could go home anyway. Even if he wanted to. 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“What happened?” Jeremy didn’t even look up when he asked his question. 

“What?” Rich hadn’t yet settled into the partially deflated air mattress when he was prompted to look up. 

“Tell me.” Jeremy’s hands were trembling, clutched against his two day’s worn pyjama pants in sweaty fists. “What happened to your face? Why were you at Michael’s house? What did he take? I need to know.” 

“Umm…” Rich searched for words. 

“Rich.” Jeremy finally looked up, begging for an answer. “Please.” 

“I… well… when I told you my dad was an alcoholic… that wasn’t just our squips being weird or whatever. He kicked the shit out of me then threw me out of the house without my phone.” Rich subconsciously brushed his hand over what was certainly a decently sized bruise under his ribcage. “A while back, when Michael found out about him, he told me I could always stay with him if I needed to. And since it was cold and raining I went over there and found him…” Rich’s words failed. He took a few deep breaths. “I thought he was passed out drunk at first. I just saw the beer cans and a tequila bottle. Then I thought it was alcohol poisoning. But then I found the pill bottles and I-” he choked on his own throat and felt more tears pressing against the backs of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jeremy, I… I can’t.”

“Rich… I…” But he had nothing to say. The two just sat in the dark, quietly crying to themselves. 

“Michael of all people.” Rich sighed through a sob after a lengthy silence. “He’s so…” 

“I know.” Jeremy agreed. “He is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED THE STORY TODAY!!!! I'll post chapters every few days to give myself some time to prepare the first few chapters of the sequel, so get ready for some consistent uploads for once! 
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying my story, and will continue to do so through the next few chapters <3 Thank you so much for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it! I'll see y'all real soon!


	36. Chapter 36

“Jeremy.” He whirled around at Kelly’s voice and sprung up from his chair into Michael's moms’ arms. 

“I’m so sorry!” He’d been able to hold back tears since he’d woken up that morning, but as soon as Kelly and Diane wrapped their arms around him, he lost it. “I’m so so so sorry.” 

“Sweetheart you have _nothing_ to be sorry for.” Kelly assured, clutching her second son as tightly as she could. She couldn’t bring herself to raise her gaze and peer at Michael. Her heart wouldn’t be able to take it with Jeremy crying in her arms. 

“But I was supposed to-” 

“No buts.” Diane ran her fingers through Jeremy’s hair as she cut him off, hoping to calm his tremble. “It is _not_ your fault.” 

Jeremy just nodded and let himself cry into the shoulders of the women who had essentially become his mothers. 

“Excuse me?” Jeremy looked up when an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway. A nurse was standing there, smiling sadly at the trio. “I’m sorry but we can only have two visitors in at a time for safety reasons. I also need to speak with Mrs. and Mrs. Mell…” 

“I’ll see you guys later.” Jeremy nodded and reluctantly released his iron grip. “I’ll see you later, Michael.” He called over his shoulder as he left the room, his spot overtaken by the nurse. 

“How are they?” Rich looked up as Jeremy came back into the waiting room, scrubbing his cheeks with the cuffs of his sleeves. 

“I can’t imagine.” Jeremy shook his head and plopped into the chair next to Rich, heels of his hands digging into his eyes, trying to force the tears back in and he slouched over his knees. 

“I can’t either…” Rich sighed, patting Jeremy on the shoulder. 

“What happens now?” Jeremy wondered aloud. “How the hell do we move on from this?” 

“I don’t know.” Rich bit his lip and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his shins. “I’ve never thought about anything like this…” 

“Who would?” 

“Fair point.” 

“I just…” Jeremy sat back and pulled his hands away from his face, looking in the direction of the ceiling as shapes and colours swirled in his vision. “I wish he would have let me be there for him. I wish he would have told me how he was really feeling. Because this… I could have called someone. I… I could have told his moms. Or my dad. Or a doctor. I don’t know… This is just… I don’t know what to do now.” 

“I know.” Rich nodded. “But we’ll figure it out. All of us.” 

“How can we know that, though? How do we know this won’t tear everything apart? How do we know anything?” 

“We don’t. But we need to at least know that everything _could_ end up fine. And if we end up fine, we do. If we don’t… well… I don’t want to think about that.” 

“Jeremy, why are you…?” Mr. Heere appeared before him, coffee cup in hand, barely able to keep his eyes open. “They got here?” 

“Yeah.” Jeremy sat forward again, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed to he was staring at his converse. 

“How were they?” Mr. Heere lowered himself into the chair next to his son. 

“Better than I thought they’d be. But they were probably holding it in for my sake.” 

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” The Mell’s had always been wonderful to Jeremy. Especially after his mother had run off. They could always be counted on to step up when Jeremy needed a mom. “We’ll give them some time to digest before bugging them, eh?” 

“Yeah…” Jeremy sighed. 

“Are any of the others coming by today?” 

“I asked them not to.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I dunno.” Jeremy shrugged, thinking back to his message in the group chat. 

Tall Ass (7:13 am): If you guys were planning on coming to the hospital today, please don’t. I need time with him. Alone. I’m sorry. 

Everyone had obliged. Rich had even been staying in the waiting room for most of the day, save for bringing Jeremy water. They understood. Once Michael was awake and aware they would visit him. 

“Well, there isn’t much any of you can do anyway.” 

“The nurses say he can hear us.” 

“I’ve no doubt.” Mr. Heere quickly backpedaled. “I was just saying-”

“I know.” Jeremy interjected before his dad could make a fool of himself. 

“Things will be okay.” Mr. Heere assured when he saw tears splattering on Jeremy’s jeans. He reached out and placed his free hand on his son’s shoulder. “They will.” 

Jeremy could only grunt back, “Yeah.”


	37. Chapter 37

_Beep… beep… beep…_

_”Wha…?”_ Michael groaned internally at the aggravating sound. _”But my alarm is…” _

_Beep… beep… beep…_

_“What song did I use for my alarm…?”_

He tried to open his eyes, but his lids refused to cooperate. They felt as though they’d been soldered shut. 

_Beep… beep… beep…_

_”Why…?”_ he attempted to bring a hand to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes in hopes they were simply cemented shut from exhaustion, but was only able to make his index finger twitch twice before he gave up on moving his lead-filled arm. 

_Beep… beep… beep…_

_“Just wake _up!” he directed all of his concentration and strength into his eyelids, willing them to open. 

After countless screeching beeps and many a draining effort, Michael finally managed to crack his eyes open. The room was dark and blurry, but he could immediately tell he wasn’t in his own bed. 

_“What the hell?!”_ He forced his eyes to open wider, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He tried to look around the room but the rest of his body hadn’t yet received the memo that it was time to wake up. _”Where am I?!_

The room refused to come to focus as Michael felt his heart speeding up and his breath beginning to hitch. In turn, the insistent beeping seemed to become more frantic and speed up as well. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” An unfamiliar voice reached his ears. It sounded as if it was echoing through a limestone cave. “Take it easy, try to calm down.” A multicoloured blob floated into his field of vision. “Relax, don’t try to rush yourself.” 

Michael tried to steady his breathing, but found it even more difficult than usual in his current state. 

“I’m Nurse Powell, you’re safe.” The voice slowly came closer, bouncing off less stalagmites as Michael’s thoughts began to rise up from the quicksand in his head. Everything was fuzzy around the edges. He felt like he was taking twice as long to comprehend the words spoken to him. “Can you blink once for me?” 

Michael complied, finding it was becoming gradually easier to control his eyes. 

“Good! Now twice?” 

Again Michael forced his eyes to close and open. Why was such a simple task taking up so much of his limited energy? 

“Alright, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to blink once for yes, and twice for no, okay?” 

Michael blinked once. 

“Awesome, okay.” The purple blob that was the nurse was starting to take the shape of a man as he continued to stand next to Michael. 

“Do you know your name?” 

A single blink. His name was Michael. Michael Mell. 

“Do you know how old you are?”

Yes. Sixteen. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

Michael blinked twice. 

“You’re at Beth Israel hospital.” 

Duh. He should have been able to figure that out. After all the guy talking to him had declared himself as a nurse. He pulled his eyes open with some difficulty when the next question began. 

“Are you feeling any pain?” 

No. He wasn’t feeling much of anything. The blinking game was becoming near impossible as his eyelids seemed to gain ten pounds every second. 

“You’re feeling kind of fuzzy and out of it?” 

Absolutely. 

“That feeling will go away in a few hours. Try to…” 

Before he could hear the rest of the sentence, Michael’s eyes shut and he melted into the black hole that was his brain. 

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

“I don’t…” Michael sighed at the alarm sound and reached for his phone to hit snooze. But when he swatted at his bedside table, nothing was there. His hand simply continued its decent off the edge of the bed into nothing. “Wha…?” he forced his eyes open as he dragged his arm back onto his bed. Wait. No. _Not_ his bed.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Michael rolled himself over at that oh-so familiar voice. 

“Jere…?” his voice was gravelly and his throat was dry. 

“Hey buddy.” Jeremy had a massive grin on his face. Or maybe it was a grimace? Michael couldn’t tell. 

“Hey…” Michael looked around the room in a failed attempt to orient himself. “Where…?” 

“You’re in the hospital.” Jeremy explained slowly and softly. 

“Why?” 

“I’m gonna let the doctor explain that, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Hey, Michael?” 

He looked back over at his best friend. “Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

He wasn’t sure why the sudden display of affection was occurring, but Michael wasn’t one to protest when the time came to tell his friends what they meant to him. “I love you too.”


	38. Chapter 38

“How are you feeling?” Kelly asked for about the millionth time as she rubbed gentle circles into the back of Michael’s hand. Her hand encased his strongly, while also feeling as though they were barely brushing against each other. 

“Mom, really, I’m okay.” Michael insisted, forcing as big a smile as he could. It was barely a smirk. “Just like I was five minutes ago.” 

“We’re moms, let us worry.” Diane ran her fingers through his hair again, trying to find any excuse to make contact. She needed the constant reminder that he was still there. Even though he was right in front of her, she still needed physical, tangible proof. 

“We love you so much, sweetheart.” Kelly gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I love you guys too.” Michael blinked and held back a yawn. 

“We’re here for you, no matter what.” Diane assured. “Honey, if ever you need to talk to us about-”

“Diane.” Kelly cut her off. “Not right now.” 

“I was just going to say-”

“Please, not right now.” 

“It’s fine…” Michael didn’t want his moms arguing over him, but could barely put up a fight as his eyelids dropped once more. 

“Shh…” Kelly brushed the hair away from Michael’s eyes. “Just rest.” But Michael was already out cold. 

The two were silent for a while before Diane finally said what they were both thinking. “He hasn’t slept this much since he was a toddler.” 

“I know…” a smile pulled at Kelly’s lips as she took in how peaceful her son looked. “It’s all finally catching up with him.” 

“Kell, I-”

“No, _I’m_ sorry.” She interjected before Diane could even get the thought out. “I just… I’m not ready to hear it.” 

“I’m not either.” Diane reached across the bed and place her hand atop her wife and son’s. “But that’s not our choice to make.” 

“I know…” Kelly hung her head, willing the tears not to fall. “Just… one more day.” 

“When _he’s_ ready.” Diane corrected. 

“When he’s ready.” Kelly agreed. 

“Mrs. Mell’s?” A soft knock came from the door. 

“Yes?” Diane called and Dr. Sherman, who had been looking after Michael, poked her head into the room. 

“May I speak with you two?” She asked. 

“He’s asleep, come in.” 

Dr. Sherman fully entered the room and shut the door behind her. “Seeing as Michael’s condition is improving and he will likely be discharged in a couple of days, I wanted to discuss your treatment options after discharge.” 

“That would be good.” Diane nodded. 

“So you have a few different options moving forward.” Dr. Sherman began. “The first one, and the one I recommend most often in situations such as these, is a stay in our inpatient facility. We have a designated youth floor in our psychiatric wing. Michael will have around the clock care and monitoring, as well as access to specialists and different types of therapy.” 

“Okay…” Kelly nodded, her stomach fluttering at the thought of locking Michael in a psych ward. She knew the facility wouldn’t be anything like the asylum in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but the first thing that came to mind when she heard ‘psych ward’ was Michael in a padded room, laughing to himself while bound in a straitjacket. 

“Another option is to have Michael at the facility during the day, and home at night. Since he is considered a danger to himself at this time, he needs to be monitored twenty-four hours a day. So during the day he can participate in rehab and therapy here, and spend evenings and nights with the two of you.” 

The two nodded along. 

“The final option is for Michael to continue seeing his therapist daily, and staying home with either one or both of you until he is deemed safe to be on his own. While this may seem like the best option, it is often not.” 

“Why’s that?” Diane had to agree with the first half of Dr. Sherman’s statement. It _did_ seem like the best option to have Michael within their sight at all times. 

“I know it can seem appealing to be able to watch over him yourself and keep him close, especially after what you have been through in the last few days, but it often tends to put a lot of strain on the family. It’s very difficult to see your child in such a state that they feel they have no other choice but to hurt themselves. It’s difficult to see _anybody_ like that, but to see your child in pain is a different kind of impossible. At the inpatient facility, there are countless doctors who trained for years to help the patients there. They know what to expect and how to solve the problems that will undoubtedly arise. And of course, you would be able to visit Michael every day.” 

“I see.” Kelly nodded. What the doctor said made perfect sense. 

“Think about it, and please make Michael a part of your decision process. Treatment is much more effective when the person receiving it actually wants to be there.” 

“We will.” Kelly smiled. “Thank you for the information.” 

“Of course, let me know if you have any questions.”


	39. Chapter 39

“Knock knock!” Christine’s voice accompanied her tapping before she poked her head through the door with a smile. “Hi Michael, and Mrs. and Mrs. Mell!” She cracked the door open enough to show that all of Michael’s friends were peering through the door to see him. 

“Hi kids.” Kelly smiled before looking back at her son. “You want some time to visit with your friends, Michael?” 

“If you guys don’t mind.” He nodded. It was great having his moms around, but he missed his squad. An hour or two wouldn’t hurt. 

“Of course not, we’ll go grab some lunch or something.” Diane smiled and ruffled Michael’s hair as Kelly planted a kiss on his forehead. There were hugs to Jeremy as the pair left and were replaced with seven teens. 

“Hey guys.” Michael smiled as the crowd settled around the private room. Chloe and Brooke perched on the window sill, Jenna claimed the fold-out chair in the corner while Jake propped himself on the armrest, Rich leaned against the bedside table, and Jeremy and Christine took over the bedside chairs. 

“Brought you a slushie.” Jeremy smiled as he passed over the half-melted beverage that he hoped Michael would drink. 

“Thanks.” Michael took a quick swig from the heavy cup before placing it aside.

“How’re you feeling?” Rich asked with a tremor in his voice. He was still in shock. Still wouldn’t let himself believe that what happened was anything more than a twisted nightmare. 

“I’m okay.” Michael assured and reached out to pat Rich’s hand gently. “Tired, but okay.” 

_“You’re just a liar through and through, aren’t you?”_ Michael nearly flinched when the voice whispered in his ear, but forced himself to stay still. 

_“Not now.”_ he snapped back. 

_“They won’t believe you and figure out you’re lying about everything and have been for years.”_

_“I said not now.”_

Michael ignored the voice in favour of listening to his friends. They were acting as normal as they could, chatting about school and spring break plans and anything besides the fact that Michael was in the hospital because he’d tried to kill himself. He mostly sat at the edge of the conversation, only chiming in when his opinion was specifically asked, which he was fine with. It was nice to have a social interaction that didn’t revolve around him. It made him feel some semblance of normalcy. Like he wasn’t some crazy person who had overdosed in his basement because he ran out of weed and broke his headphones. Wait. No. Kropp broke his headphones. And stole his weed. 

_“Whatever.”_ he halted his train of thought. _“I’m not crazy. I’m sick.”_ That’s what everyone had been attempting to drill into his head. Dr. Sherman, his moms, Jeremy, all of the nurses, everyone. 

After an hour or so of everyone keeping Michael company, Jeremy saw his best friend’s eyelids begin to droop. The doctor had said Michael would be sleeping a lot, even though he’d been comatose for two days. He was still recovering after all. 

Jeremy reached out and rested a gentle hand on Michael’s arm, giving him a nod and a smile, telling him it was fine to fall asleep. Nobody would judge him. They wouldn’t be offended. 

“Guys.” Jeremy caused a hush over the crowd with his statement as he gestured to Michael, already fast asleep. 

“Oh…” Brooke smiled in a sad kind of way, looking as if she was holding back tears. “He’s so… Peaceful…” 

“Yeah…” Jake agreed with a sigh. 

“We should probably…” Jenna rose from her chair to give Michael his time to rest. 

“We should.” Chloe hopped off the window sill as quietly as she could. 

“You guys go, I’m gonna hang until his moms get back, okay?” Jeremy watched as the rest of his friends filed out of the room. 

Rich lingered at the door and let out a small huff before asking, “Mind if I stay too?” 

“Of course.” Jeremy smiled and Rich eased himself into the now unoccupied chair next to Jeremy. 

“How are you doing?” Rich asked. 

“I don’t know…” Jeremy admitted with his head hung. He reached out to hold Michael’s hand, grounding himself. 

“Honestly, me neither.” Rich leaned back, facing the ceiling. He couldn’t get the images of that godforsaken night out if his head. Every time he looked at Michael he saw the blood, the foam dripping from his mouth, the empty pill and liquor bottles scattered about, the skeletal frame of his friend slumped on the floor like a pile of dirty laundry, everything. He cursed himself for not getting off the ground faster. For not remembering Michael’s words sooner. How could he have taken so long to get to Michael’s house when something so unimaginable was taking place. Rich had just been wandering about in the rain while Michael was suffering. He could have been helping. He could have intercepted the attempt. He could have done something. 

“Stop blaming yourself.” Jeremy’s voice broke Rich’s spiral. 

“What?” 

“Stop blaming yourself.” Jeremy repeated. “We’re both doing it. We need to stop.” 

“But if I had just-” 

“Yeah well, we didn’t.” Jeremy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Any of us could probably have done a lot of things to change that night. Butterfly effect and all that.” 

“Like… Until Dawn?” 

“Sure. Yeah, actually. Like Until Dawn. Anyone he knew or encountered probably could have done something to change that night but we didn’t. None of us did. We just have to try and get over that. We can’t change the past.” 

“You’re right.” Rich agreed reluctantly. “But we can make changes now. Hopefully alter the future?” 

“We can try.” Jeremy nodded with a small smile. “And you’d best believe I’ll be trying my damndest.” 

“We all will.” 

The two sat in silence for a while, listening to Michael’s rhythmic breathing accompanied by the hum of machinery around the room. Eventually, their silence was interrupted by Michael’s moms returning. 

“Hey, boys.” Kelly ruffled Jeremy’s hair as she came into the room. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“He fell asleep so they wanted to give him space.” Rich explained. “But uh… we stayed to keep him company.” 

“Thanks for doing that.” Diane smiled. She was so glad her son had finally found friends who cared as much as Jeremy. They were a good bunch. 

“Of course, we’ll leave you to him now.” Jeremy got up and Rich followed suit. “We’re all going back to school tomorrow so we should probably, you know, prepare and stuff.” 

“Hey Jere, stay a second will you?” Kelly called when they were almost out the door. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He backpedaled and waved Rich forward before closing the door and facing Kelly and Diane. “What’s up?” 

“Thank you, Jeremy.” Diane smiled. 

“For..?” 

“Everything.” Kelly was holding back tears. “You are the best friend we could have ever hoped for Michael to have. The best friend he could have asked for.” 

“I don’t know about that…” Jeremy felt his cheeks flushing. 

“We do.” Diane assured. “Even when you guys had your fight, Michael never had anything bad to say about you. Only that if you were happy, he could be happy for you.” 

“I think you guys have it backward.” Jeremy shook his head. “Michael is the best friend _I_ could have ever asked for. He’s too good for me. I don’t deserve him.” 

“You _do_.” Kelly gathered him in a hug, Diane quickly jumping on after her. “We love you like a son, Jeremy. And that’s because of the person you are. We wouldn’t like you if you were a bad friend.” 

Jeremy had to chuckle at that. “Thank you, both of you.” He let a tear slip out. “I love you.” 

“We love _you_.” Diane gave the hug pile a squeeze. 

“You guys know I can hear you, right…?” Michael’s groggy, half-asleep voice startled all three of them. “I love you moms… I love you Jere…” and just like that he was asleep again. 

Jeremy laughed again, a huge grin spanning his face. “I love you too, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to finish this story out with some fluff! This was definitely one of my favourite stories I've worked on, and I can't wait to get the sequel I have planned off the ground! 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has been here since the beginning, and those we've picked up along the way. I appreciate every single one of you! 
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed the story, and I'll see you again soon, goodbye for now, y'all <3


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